The Lost Magic
by ItsMajesty
Summary: Harry is deeply disturbed after the death of his godfather and is having his worst summer yet when something quite unexpected happens, causing him to see magic, and sides of himself he never knew existed... NO SLASH! Chapter seven up! Please R&R!
1. Post unwanted

It was the end of an exceptionally hot summer day in Privet Drive. The inhabitants were all out in their gardens watering their neat lawns or otherwise cooling off under large parasols. Children were running around everywhere, some eating large, colourful ice creams, others jumping around in the many sprinklers that were out, enjoying the last of the sun before their parents would come to call them in.

Harry Potter was sitting on the steps of number four, passive to all the happy activity. His mind was somewhere quite different at the moment; he was, as he had been so many times that summer, engrossed in the events prior to his vacation. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let Voldemort get to him like that? Why hadn't he practiced occlumency like Snape had told him to, instead of being proud and every bit as arrogant as Snape always accused him of being? Why couldn't he have proven him wrong? These were questions he had been asking himself over and over again all summer, and this fine summer's day was no exception.

Today his contemplation was cut short however, by a shriek from inside, followed by the appearance of a particularly purple-faced Uncle Vernon. Vernon was Harry's uncle by marriage; a beefy man with very little neck and an extremely short fuse who seemed to live to make Harry miserable.

"You, boy. In here," he said quietly, seemingly trying to suppress his rage while at the same time trying to convince the neighbours that everything wascompletely normal. The result was quite frightening, and Harry decided he'd better hurry up before his uncle went completely out of his head, something that would be sure to cause an extra amount of trouble for him. He stood up quickly and pushed his now quite long hair out of his eyes while following the large man through the open door.

The moment they were inside and safely out of sight from the neighbours, Uncle Vernon grabbedHarry firmly by the collar and put his face, now a lovely shade of blue, right up to Harry's.

"That – ruddy – owl-" he started, seeming unable to figure out the right way to express his outrage. "Flying! In the kitchen! Scared Petunia half to death –you, boy; you'd better control that animal, or-"

Aunt Petunia gave another loud screech.

"Just get it out of the kitchen!" his uncle yelled angrily.

Harry sighed and wrenched himself out of Uncle Vernon's grip.

"Sorry," he mumbled grumpily, walking calmly into the kitchen where he saw Hedwig, his faithful snowy owl, sitting on the kitchen table with a letter tied to her foot, and Aunt Petunia huddled in the opposite corner of the room, holding a frying pan. Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister, a bony and relatively normal-sized woman with an exceptionally long neck she often used to spy on the neighbours. Usually keeping a pretty ladylike, cool fascade, his aunt was now white-faced and shaking with anger, her hair, usually so neat and sleek, standing out in every possible direction as she looked at Hedwig with an expression of utmost loathing.

Harry held out his arm and Hedwig climbed on and nibbled his ear affectionately. He looked sideways at Aunt Petunia, who gave him a very unpleasant look and put the frying pan down.

"I hope you weren't intending on using that," Harry said, shooting her a slightly threatening glance.

"I might have," Aunt Petunia replied defiantly, turning her back to him, pretending to busy herself with kitchen work.

"You _might have_ regretted that," Harry said snidely, walking out of the kitchen.

As he passed his uncle in the hallway, he grabbed Harry's arm and fixed him with a furious glare.

"You keep a civil tongue in your mouth, boy," he warned, as Harry wrenched himself out of his uncle's grasp for the second time that day.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," he replied dully, trying to slip past his uncle but he caught him firmly by the arm yet again and pointed his finger at Harry, nearly poking his eye out.

"And you controll that animal, boy -or I'll do it myself. And I can promise you there won't be a whole bloody lot of owl left when I'm finished, understand?"

Harry felt himself getting angry. He didn't mind it when his uncle threatened him, he was used to it, but upon hearing him threaten the one friend Harry had in Privet Drive, he tore himself away from him and whipped out his wand, always in his pocket these days.

"You do that," Harry said irately. "-and I'll make sure there isn't a whole bloody lot of _you_ left when_I'm_finished."

Aunt Petuina, who had been listening attentively from the kitchen, screamed loudly and came running out, throwing herarms around her husband and pointing a bony finger at Harry, her face caught in a gaping expression.

No doubt curious about all the noise, Dudley Dursley, Harry's astonishingly corpulent cousin, chose that moment to waddle into the hall and, his face going white and his five chins shaking , he ran over to his parents and tried to squeeze himself between them, letting out a small squeal.

The Dursleys had always hated magic, and for eleven years, Harry had in fact not known that he was a wizard at all, due to the fact that Uncle Vernon thought he had it in him to squash it out of him. He had of course failed miserably, and Harry had started his first year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in euphoria at being able to get away from his doomed existence in their household. He had had no idea then that his existence was bound to be doomed wherever he went. He had learned about Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard of all times, and his scar shaped like a lightning bolt, the eternal mark of the deadly curse with which Voldemort had tried to kill him when he was only an infant, and the fame that this failed cursehad given him. He had not known however, the reason Voldemort had tried to kill him in the first place. Not until the very end of last year had he learned about the prophecy, the prophecy that his divination teacher, Professor Sibyll Trelawney, had delivered some sixteen years ago, stating that Harry was the only one who could defeat Lord Voldemort; neither can live while the other survives...

The Dursleys didn't know about this however; they didn't care about whatever problems he might have. What they cared about was their own, one-sided impression of things, and as far as they were concerned, anything magical was abnormal and dangerous.So any mention of Hogwarts,Harry's friends, or anything with even a remote connection to the magical world, would cause them to drop whatever they were holding, stop in mid-sentence, back into corners and fall off their chairs. Harry remembered that first summer back from Hogwarts, when he had casually told Dudley to "say the magic word" at the breakfast table. Though all he had meant was _please_, the reaction had been atomical, and Harry wasn't likely to forget it for a while.

Harry lowered his wand and, giving the Dursleys a pitiful look, stuffed it back into his pocket before stepping past the still cowering groupand ascending the stairs that led to his second floor bedroom. He shouldn't have lost his temper like that, he knew it, but he just hadn't been able to help himself. His temper hadn't really improved over the summer, and this had just been one of those long and dreary days, this little incident really topping it off nicely.

Once safely in his room he walked over to his desk and set Hedwig down on the only space that wasn't covered with books or clothes –he hadn't been very thorough about cleaning his room this summer. She held out her leg dutifully, but Harry just glared at her.

"What the-" he started, then he collected himself, trying again. "Why on earth did you come through the kitchen? You know you're not supposed to do that."

Hedwig hooted indignantly and flew over to the window, tapping it impatiently with her beak.

Harry frowned. "No, I'm not letting you out – oh!"

He suddenly realized that the window was closed. Come to think of it, it was also swelteringly hot in his bedroom; no wonder. He couldn't really remember closing it, and it must have been the first time that summer –he had left it open at all times because of the heat.

He felt bad for criticizing Hedwig, and quickly set to untying the letter from her foot, muttering a quick apology, which she seemed to accept. Then he went over to the window, letter in hand, and opened it carefully. Hedwig flew out immediately, brushing him slightly with her wing as she passed him.

Harry sighed and looked at the letter in his hand. He could clearly make out Hermione's neat handwriting on the envelope and opened it tiredly, cursing under his breath.

_Dear Harry,_

_It was good to hear from you. I was getting slightly worried when you didn't respond to my previous letters. _

(Take a hint, Harry thought, annoyed)

_I am currently enjoying a relaxing vacation in Norway with my parents. It is absolutely fantastic; there are so many things to see here! Sundry old museums (most of them run by muggles, but we met an old witch in one of the museums in Trondheim who told us many fascinating things, among other things giving us a detailed description of the Norwegian "nisse"), old churches, and the nature is positively gorgeous!_

_I have also gotten to do a bit of research, and the magical history here is simply enthralling! I am hoping I can make use of it in History of Magic next year –I wrote a little essay on it._

Harry rolled his eyes, slightly amused; he could hardly imagine any essay of Hermione's being little

_Anyway, Harry, I hope you are enjoying yourself a little, despite everything. I know you're feeling dreadful pain right now,_

(You don't know the half of it, Harry thought bitterly)

_-but you mustn't let it get you down. You are strong, Harry. You can get through it. And if ever you need to talk, do not hesitate to write. I am here for you._

_Love, Hermione_

Harry folded the letter and stuffed it unceremoniously into the envelope. Hermione was one of Harry's two best friends. A very bright girl with extraordinarily bushy hair, she always thought she knew best. And Harry had to hand it to her; a lot of the time she really _did_ know best, but right now he wished she would just leave him alone. Every lettershe had sent him that summer had sounded like that, and she had sent a fair few letters too. The only reason he had responded to the last one, was that he was afraid she would come storming to him, hadn't he assured her that he was ok. He didn't really know why it angered him so much, she was his friend and she just wanted to help, it was just that the idea of her thinking she knew how he felt made him so frustrated. She couldn't possibly know how he felt; no one could know how he felt. He was alone, and it was just something he had to learn to live with.

He lay down on his bed, thinking about how thoroughly miserable he was. Then he got to thinking about the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from Uncle Vernon's liquor cabinet last week, and thinking that he should probably let it stay under his loose floorboard. However, the need for something numbing finally overpowered him, and he took the little bottle out, opening it and taking a sip.

It burned his throat slightly, but not as badly as the first time he had tried it. He was quite surprised that Uncle Vernon hadn't noticed anything yet, as he usually had a little shot of something in the evenings on the weekends. He had been very busy lately however; his company, Grunnings, had received an unusually large order of drills and it had been driving him crazy.

Harry sat quietly for a while, thinking about it, every now and then taking a swig out of the bottle.

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the stairs, and he hurriedly shoved the bottle back under the floorboard, straightening up just as Dudley poked his fat face into the room.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped, as Dudley opened the door all the way and stepped into his room.

Dudley didn't answer for a moment, seemingly taking in every part of Harry's room, a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Hello?" Harry said, waving a hand in front of his cousin's face to get his attention. "Did you come in here to show me how you can stare stupidly into space, because frankly, Duddy -I've noticed. See, you do it about ninety percent of the time."

Harry gave him a nasty grin and Dudley turned his head slowly in his direction, looking as if he was wondering what Harry was doing there. Then he shook his head violently and said, "Dad wants to talk to you."

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Is that all?" he asked, wondering why his cousin would come all the way up to his room to ask him that, when all he had to do was yell from downstairs. It was a long and exhausting walk, after all.

Dudley didn't answer; he just walked out of the room, and Harry heard him close his bedroom door a few seconds later. Very strange behavior for his cousin, he thought, as he walked slowly down the stairs.

When he walked into the living room, Uncle Vernon was standing by the fireplace, looking as irate as Harry had ever seen him.

"There is something missing from my liquor cabinet," he said in a voice of forced calm.

Harry, horribly aware that he had just been drinking, made sure to keep his distance from his uncle while putting on an innocent expression of mild surprise.

This only seemed to infuriate his uncle more.

"YOU HAVE BEEN – YOU HAVE – HOW DARE YOU – FIRST YOU THREATEN, THEN YOU - YOU ... -SCARED US HALF TO DEATH, YOU DID - I'LL MAKE YOU PAY - YOU - I KNOW YOU- "

Uncle Vernon was so angry that he couldn't even get the words out. Harry frowned in mock confusion and thoroughly enjoyed the effect this had his uncle, who started pulling large chunks out of his moustache, something he had a nasty habit of doing whenever he was too furious for words.

"You can check my room," Harry said unnecessarily, stepping aside as Uncle Vernon charged past him, taking the stairs in four strides, something Harry hadn't thought was physically possible for his uncle to do.

Harry walked calmly up after him, slipping quickly into the bathroom to get some mouth spray before joining his uncle in his room.

Uncle Vernon was searching frantically through all of Harry's belongings, all the while cursing under his breath, as he wasn't finding what he was looking for. Harry couldn't help but smile coyly as he stood there, for once grateful that he had such en extremely thick uncle.

"Not here, but ... maybe in here..." His uncle mumbled frantically as he tossed all of Harry's things around the room. "I'll find it -it's here, Iknow it... He'll pay, I'll..."

This went on for what seemed like a very long time, but after about ten minutes of finding nothing, Uncle Vernon finally gave up and left Harry's room with a snarl, meaning that Harry had better not show his face downstairs for the rest of the evening. Just as well. He wasn't feeling particularly sociable anyway. He had, in fact, kept to himself most of the summer, getting quickly tired of company. The "company" in this house was, of course, never especially pleasant, but he could still sense a definite change in himself when it came to being around people. When he thought about it, he was noticing changes in other areas too, changes that troubled him.

For one, he had always loved getting mail from his friends, whereas now he just wanted them to leave him alone altogether. He had also, for some strange reason, started caring more about how he looked; he had let his hair grow longer, though not _long, _he was more careful when picking out clothes, and he would often spend long periods of time in front of the mirror in his bedroom, examining himself. This might not have so much to do with vanity, he realized, as he would stand for long periods of time in front of anything, examining whatever he happened to be looking at. At times, he wasn't even really seeing what he was looking at, but instead seeing an evil, snakelike face with red eyes like slits.

The most disturbing change however, was how much he thought about revenge. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to hurt the person who had lost him his godfather. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to kill Bellatrix Lestrange.

His nightmares had become less frequent, but when he did have nightmares, she was the one he dreamt about. He would dream that she was lying on the floor, helpless and screeching, while he stood over her, holding her under a much more successful cruciatus curse than the one he had tried to perform last year. He would do this for a while, all the while talking to her quite calmly, as if this was regular, everyday business. Then he would lift the curse, look into her black eyes and yell "Avada Kedavra!" A powerful jet of green light would burst from his wand, and he would see himself in her eyes for a moment, before he changed. A high-pitched, evil laughter would erupt from his mouth before he woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing in his blankets, often on the floor.

He lay down on his bed again, wishing he were a normal boy, a boy who wasn't destined to kill or be killed, a boy who had a family, a boy who had a life. He was so sick and tired of being "the one who has power the Dark Lord knows not," he was so frustrated with the thought that only he could end this, only he could vanquish this evil.

He wasn't even afraid anymore, he wasn't afraid to fail. It didn't seem to matter any longer, and besides, reckless as it may sound, he realized that he could do it. The issue he was facing now was being able to put an end to Voldemort without becoming him in the process.

He closed his eyes and buried his head in his pillow. And as he lay there, he drifted slowly off to sleep, forgetting momentarily the doomed world around him.


	2. Wand

It was late when Harry awoke; the moon was shining through his window, illuminating his small room and causing the shadows to look oddly distorted as he sat up in bed. He could hear both Dudley's and Uncle Vernon's loud snores from the other rooms, meaning that the entire house was sound asleep. He looked over at the clock on his desk; it was two thirty. His head was hurting slightly, and his stomach was aching from the lack of food.

He stood up, feeling worse than before he went to sleep. Though his sleep had been mercifully nightmare-free, he had awoken recalling more vividly than ever Sirius' face as Bellatrix had hit him with the lethal curse and screamed with pleasure as he fell through the veil. If only he hadn't-

Harry shuddered, as a depression such as he had never known the likes of came over him. He sat down on his bed again, clutching his head and rocking back and forth. It was like something was tearing his heart out of his chest, and it hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced; the cruciatus curse didn't even come close.

He couldn't stand it anymore, and as a feeling of utter recklessness came over him, he got down on his knees on the floor, wrenched open the loose floorboard, got out the bottle of whiskey which was almost half-full, and drained the entire contents, letting the empty bottle drop to the floor beside him.

He regretted it the moment after he had done it as he sat on his knees on his bedroom floor, breathing heavily. Why was he always so stupid? Why was he always so damn careless? He stood up quickly and the world spun dangerously. He quickly grabbed hold of something to keep himself from falling as he swayed ominously on the spot.

After trying to collect himself for a minute or two, he slumped down on his bed and uttered a low moan. As opposed to making him feel better, the alcohol was now making him feel ten times worse. His head was swimming, his throat was burning, and the mere thought of what he had just done sickened him. It was like he was the lead role of a particularly lousy soap opera.

He heard Uncle Vernon stir in the next room, and his stomach flipped unpleasantly. Wouldn't it just be typical if he decided to wake up and come check on him right now, Harry thought bitterly. As his uncle gave a particularly loud snore however, that thought was pushed from his mind.

He didn't know what to do anymore –the pain was overwhelming him. If mere pain could kill, he would certainly be dead by now. It wasn't just a mental pain now either –his whole body was literally aching, and it was truly the most horrible thing he had ever felt.

He had to do something –he couldn't just stay put in his room any longer. He thought for a moment of going outside, but then remembered suddenly the letter he had received from Dumbledore at the start of his vacation stating clearly that he should _not_ leave the safety of the house after dark. Harry knew that people had been set to watch him, just like last year, but he supposed it was harder for them to keep track of everything that was going on after it had turned dark.

He thought about it quickly. He respected Dumbledore, he really did, and especially after the way he had handled Harry's behavior at the end of last term. At the moment however, his anger towards him for not having told him about the prophecy sooner was all he could think about. What did it matter, he thought savagely, if Voldemort caught him tonight? No one cared about him anyway; they cared about the damn "boy who lived". And the boy who lived was currently having a pretty crappy life. He didn't want to be the savior of the wizarding world –he hadn't asked for it. Right now he didn't even care, and he wasn't going to sacrifice his needs for the "greater good" anymore. And right now he _needed_ to go outside. Maybe the fresh air would be good for his head.

He grabbed a firm hold of his desk again and stood up. At the moment, he didn't quite know how he was going to walk without holding on to something, but he staggered to the bedroom door all the same, wrenching it open without thinking about being quiet about it.

Ignoring Uncle Vernon's loud grunt, he walked unsteadily out of his room and stumbled down the stairs. He walked across the landing and had just grabbed hold of the doorknob when he heard heavy steps upstairs and saw the light in the hall switch on.

"Damn," he said quietly, turning the lock quickly and opening the door without bothering to worry about the noise he was making anymore; he knew he was exposed anyway. He heard a load roar from upstairs as he stepped hurriedly out into the cool night air, turned left, and started running.

Harry didn't have any plan as to where he wanted to go. Everything was spinning, and he realized he was probably running in stupid little zigzags as he turned right down one street and left down another. By the sounds of it, Uncle Vernon had seen the empty bottle Harry so carelessly had left on his floor, and Harry realized that it was quite a nice little spot he had gotten himself into as his uncle would now be positively livid on top of everything else Harry had on his plate.

As he passed the playground where, just last summer, he had sat on a swing thinking about where Voldemort might be and why his friends were being so secretive, he slowed down to a walk, breathing heavily. To think that last summer he had actually cared, Harry thought, walking over to the swing he had been sitting on at that time. He sat down. To think that last summer Sirius had been alive, and now he wasn't, and it was only his, Harry's, fault. It was unbearable.

He started swinging back and forth, all the while trying to fight back the tears that were starting to press their way out, regardless of his efforts to keep them from coming. He lifted his head up slowly as the light night breeze swept soothingly across his face.

"Help me…" he whispered, as he stopped fighting and his eyes welled with warm, sorrowful tears, not knowing quite whom he thought he was talking to.

He put his head in his hands and let go of his self-restraint as he quietly sobbed into them. He wanted so badly to take back everything that had happened at the end of last year, or at least to forget it, but the dreadful pain he felt inside him every day assured him that he was going to have to live with the merciless truth of having caused the death of his godfather for the rest of his life.

He lifted his head from his hands and angrily wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face, vowing to himself that he would never again take any notice whatsoever of his strange dreams, no matter how much his scar hurt afterwards. He wasn't going to let Voldemort trick him again; he wasn't going to fall into any more traps, and if he did, he was going to make sure that it was he, and only he, who suffered from it.

He got up resolutely and started walking away from the playground, his speed picking up to a slow jog as he rounded the first corner. He heard footsteps behind him and stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around to see where they were coming from, but he couldn't see anyone. He turned back around and continued jogging, a little faster now; every now and then looking over his shoulder to check that no one was following him.

He started running, and again heard footsteps behind him, which seemed to be running at the exact same pace that he was. He sped up, and so did they. He stuck his hand in his pocket, desperately hoping that he hadn't left his wand back at four, Privet Drive; as much as his existence sucked at the moment, he found he wasn't ready to be killed just yet.

He sighed with relief as he felt something hard under his fingertips and soon his hand was clutched tightly around the small piece of wood. He turned a corner and continued picking up speed, but whatever was following him wasn't going to be distracted that easily and kept close on his tail. He made up his mind quickly and, frightened, unsteady, and out of breath, he spun around on the spot just as his persecutor launched a spell at him. Harry threw himself at the ground, the spell missing him by a mere inch; he could feel his hair being blown backwards as it soared over his head.

He got up as quickly as he could and yelled "_Expelliarmus_!" though his aim was so pathetic that it missed the target by several feet, and whoever was following him actually laughed. Harry recognised that laugh, that haughty drawl of a laugh…

The person moved closer, and Harry could soon see the outline of a fairly tall man with long hair, his wand pointed straight at him. The man moved even closer, but as he did so he disapparated and Harry looked wildly around him, thinking, hoping, that there was an auror about, but he couldn't see anyone. Why would he just disapparate? Harry thought curiously, his heart thudding so hard and fast he was surprised he hadn't woken the whole neighbourhood by now.

He didn't have to ponder his persecutor's sudden disappearance for long however, as he suddenly felt a rush of wind behind him and a strong hand on his shoulder. Harry didn't even have time to turn around before the world around him started spinning, more so than it already was, and he was moved from the sidewalk where he had stood just a moment before.

He landed with a hard thud on a cold stone floor in the middle of a large square room, lit up with a few candles that were scattered about it haphazardly. There wasn't a single window in the room, and Harry also noticed, with a jolt of dread, that there were no doors.

The hand that had been grasping his shoulder let go of its grip and Harry spun around, confirming his suspicions as he found himself face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

"You," Harry snarled, clutching his wand and trying to keep Lucius Malfoy in focus. Lucius gave him a nasty grin.

"Why Potter, what a delightfully original remark," he sneered, and pointed his wand at Harry. "_Expelliarmus_." Harry's wand flew out of his own hand and into Malfoy's as he was knocked backwards onto the floor. He got up angrily just as someone made a faint noise in the corner.

Harry spun around and found himself face to face with a much younger Malfoy; his blond hair was shorter than his father's was and he hadn't grown quite as tall yet. But the resemblance between Lucius and Draco was still striking, the most prominent likeness in their cold, grey eyes.

Harry gave the boy as ugly a look as he could muster, and was just about to say something equally unpleasant when Lucius whispered a soft "_Crucio_" behind his back and Harry, caught off guard, fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain.

Oddly, Draco had flinched and turned away when Lucius had cursed Harry and Lucius himself seemed to have noticed too, because he soon lifted the curse from Harry, who lay panting on the floor, and went over to Draco, talking to him in a harsh, low whisper. Harry watched, with a feeling of mingled curiosity and fear, as Lucius gestured furiously at his son, and Draco cringed under his father's towering figure. The whole thing ended with Draco getting a sharp slap across the face, and Lucius came back to Harry seething.

"So, Potter," he drawled nastily. "We meet yet again. I suppose it is no shock to you that I am out of Azkaban…"

He paused, seemingly trying to read Harry's expression. Harry, who was once again trying to get him into focus, wondered briefly if Lucius was a legilimens and quickly tried to use the few occlumency skills he had learned from Snape last year.

"However," Lucius continued, still surveying Harry closely. "What surprises _me_ is that even _you_ would be foolish enough to leave your house after dark." He smiled haughtily.

Harry didn't know how to answer that. Truth be told, he didn't really know why he had left the house himself. It had been an extremely stupid thing to do, he thought bitterly. Something like this was just bound to happen, wasn't it? Dumbledore wouldn't tell him to stay _inside_ his house for no reason… And now he had basically handed himself over to Voldemort and failed the entire wizarding world. Great.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Lucius said viciously. "Cat got your tongue?"

Harry looked down as Lucius came over to him, his wand pointed at his head.

"Or have you become a mute over the summer?" he continued in a slow, soporific drawl. "And by the way," he said suddenly, as if just remembering something. "That disarming spell you tried to hit me with earlier was absolutely pathetic. Has your aim gone completely awry over the summer as well?" He gave Harry a very superior look.

Harry said nothing again. Seeing double didn't exactly work wonders for your aim, he thought, now so annoyed with his own carelessness he was strongly tempted to inflict great pain on himself with one of Dobby's many self-punishment methods.

Harry's silence was apparently too much for Mr. Malfoy, as he grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt and lifted him to an upright position, putting his face dangerously close to Harry's. Harry was forcibly reminded of Uncle Vernon's reaction earlier that afternoon.

"Answer me, boy!" Lucius yelled furiously, pushing Harry forcibly from him.

Harry very nearly lost his balance completely, but managed to stay upright, though swaying very noticeably on the spot.

Mr. Malfoy merely stared at him for a moment, seemingly putting two and two together in his head, then his face broke into a horrible grin. Harry saw Draco move over to his father, looking confused.

"Well, well, well," Lucius said in a horrible, soft voice. "Now we see what has become of the famous Harry Potter."

Harry breathed heavily, willing himself not to speak, as he knew whatever came out of his mouth was just going to sound stupid anyway.

"Would you like to –um- walk a straight line, Mr. Potter? Isn't that what those muggle… ah, well, those muggles to when one is drunk?"

A horrible silence followed this. Harry clenched his fists, wanting to jump at Lucius and hurt every part of him he could get to; wipe the smile of that slick face of his. Then he realised something; silence. Silence had followed Mr. Malfoy's statement. Harry would have expected Draco to burst out laughing, but he hadn't.

Harry looked at the boy, who looked back at him with a strange expression on his face –was it pity- before quickly averting his eyes.

This was apparently also too much for Mr. Malfoy, who had clearly expected more support from his son. He went over to Draco again, gesturing frantically and whispering so that Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. After a moment, he saw Lucius whip out his wand, and to Harry's utter shock, point it at his son, muttering "_Crucio_."

Draco's shrieks filled the small room, and Harry stood there, perplexed, not knowing what to do. Draco fell to the floor, screaming, and before Harry had had a chance to think about what he was doing, he had hurried over and lunged himself at Mr. Malfoy.

Draco's screaming stopped immediately as Lucius, caught off his guard, was thrown off his feet onto the cold floor, Harry on top of him.

He quickly threw Harry off, and Harry barely had time to recover before Lucius shrieked "_Avada Kedavra_!" and he was forced to do a strange little somersault to avoid being hit by the killing curse.

Draco, who had definitely looked better, got up off the floor and walked over to the far right corner of the room, where he sat down. He looked slightly dazed, and when he looked at his father, it definitely wasn't with an adoring expression, though he kept his mouth shut.

Harry however, was tired of being quiet, and decided it was about time he gave Lucius Malfoy a piece of his mind.

"Going to kill me, are you?" he started, feeling a bit reckless, but plunging on just the same. "Well, your dear old master Voldemort couldn't seem to figure out how to go about that, so I wouldn't bother trying if I were you."

Mr. Malfoy fixed him with a look of utter loathing, and he had shuddered very violently when Voldemort's name had been mentioned. Draco, Harry noticed, had not, and he was now staring resolutely at Harry, as if wanting to hear what else he had to say.

"Do-not-speak-the-Dark-Lord's-name," Mr. Malfoy said through gritted teeth, pointing his wand at Harry, who pretended not to notice.

"Yes, afraid of saying your master's name, huh?" Harry continued in a slow drawl. "Afraid to say –" he paused dramatically. "– VOLDEMORT?"

He said the name loudly and clearly, causing Mr. Malfoy to flinch so exaggeratedly that he almost dropped his wand. Harry just continued.

"It's pretty pathetic, you know," he said quietly, never taking his eyes away from Mr. Malfoy's. "Fearing your own leader's name… But you are a pathetic lot of people, so I shouldn't be surprised I guess. –Would it make you feel better if I called him Tom, then?"

At this, Mr. Malfoy had had enough, and, wand still pointed directly at Harry, screamed "_CRUCIO_!" and Harry fell to his knees as the pain absorbed him.

It seemed to Harry that it lasted for hours, but at long last, Mr. Malfoy lowered his wand, a mad glint in his eye. Harry was shaking uncontrollably, and when he tried to get to his feet, his knees shuddered so violently that he was forced to sit right back down again. Panting, he looked up into the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy, who had moved right up to him, his wand still pointed directly at his chest.

"Now, do you think you've had enough, Potter?" Mr. Malfoy said threateningly. "Or do you have something else you would like to say before my master arrives?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, and though the mention of Voldemort's coming there had sent a chill down his spine, he pretended not to care, and kept staring determinedly at Mr. Malfoy.

"Yeah, there is something I would like to say, actually," he said defiantly. "Fuck you."

Lucius smiled –that nasty, superficial grin he always pasted on his face– and turned his back on him.

"Such nasty language," he drawled, a hint of a smirk in his cool, calm voice. "Is it really a form of speaking worthy of the great Harry Potter? Or perhaps the great and famous Harry Potter is falling to pieces? He is, perhaps, still mourning the loss of that good-for-nothing godfather of his?"

Mr. Malfoy turned towards Harry with a vicious grin. Harry felt a hot surge of anger, and clenched his fists furiously. Mr. Malfoy seemed to thoroughly enjoy this display of temper, and proceeded to test just how long Harry's fuse really was.

"Black died because he was foolish enough not to accept the inevitable," he said fiercely. "Because he was an idiot and a fool. As were your meddling, brainless parents (Harry gritted his teeth forcefully). They all failed to recognise that the Dark Lord will prevail. No one can change that. –And to think that some people think a virtually powerless little boy like yourself could take him out…"

Mr. Malfoy laughed, and Harry felt anger welling up inside him such as he had never felt before. –Or maybe once; the night he had attempted the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. The night Sirius had died. The night it all went to hell.

This time however, he didn't have a wand.

Harry thought for a moment of lunging himself at Malfoy again, but decided, as Malfoy was turned towards him this time, that would only serve to ridicule him further.

Mr. Malfoy, still laughing, lifted his wand to point directly at Harry's chest.

"Ready for another round of torture, Mr. Potter?" he said, seemingly taking an almost sadistic pleasure in the prospect of seeing Harry writhing on the floor.

He took a step towards Harry, and Harry stood up, confidently this time. Mr. Malfoy smiled.

"Always the Gryffindor, aren't we?" he sneered, and Harry, not thinking, held out his hand. Mr. Malfoy looked at him with raised eyebrows and Draco got up from his corner and walked over, looking curious. Harry didn't know exactly what he planned to do, it just sort of happened. He had no idea it would work, he didn't know why he was even trying, and he definitely didn't even begin to fathom how much hope would come from that one, simple word;

"_Wand_."

At Harry's command, that lovely, thin piece of wood came flying out of Malfoy's robes and right into his outstretched hand. He merely stared at it for a moment, as did both the Malfoys, then, before either of the two could register what was happening, Harry had sent a swift "_Expelliarmus_" Mr. Malfoy's way, and he was knocked off his feet, while his wand flew in a neat arch into Harry's other hand, which was soon grasping it tightly.

Draco was still staring at Harry with a look of utter incredulity, and when Harry went over to Mr. Malfoy, stunned him, and then put him in a complete body-bind, he didn't move a finger to assist his father.

Harry had been so delighted with what had just happened that it was only when he started walking away from the now rigid and lifeless form of Lucius Malfoy he realised that he had nowhere to go. There were no doors, there were no windows, and he couldn't apparate yet.

"Damn!" he exclaimed angrily. Why did there always have to be an obstacle? Why couldn't something be easy for once? He could always try apparating of course, but he had heard so many stories about how wrong these things could go, that he didn't really feel that that was an option.

Extremely frustrated, he went over to the wall and slid down to a sitting position, his elbows rested on his knees. He felt very tired all of a sudden, and for once he wanted nothing more than to get to his bed and have a good night's sleep.

He heard shuffling steps coming towards him, and looked up a second later to see Draco standing there, just looking at him.

"What?" Harry said, annoyed. Draco looked uncomfortable, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. Then he looked determinedly at Harry.

"I can apparate," he said quietly. Harry raised his eyebrows at him.

"Good for you," he said sarcastically, but as Draco offered him his hand, his expression turned mild. Taking it, he frowned slightly, wondering why on earth Draco would want to help him.

"You mean you would seriously-" he started, but Draco cut him off with a wave of his hand, grabbed a tight hold of Harry's shoulder with the other, and they both disappeared from the room in a rush of wind and colour.


	3. Where Loyalties Lie

Thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed!

Just a few quick answers:

This will NOT be slash.

Harry's caring about his looks isn't a big thing. He isn't supposed to be a particularily attractive boy, and I have no wish to make him one. It is more of a casual way for him to, every once in a while, escape the miserable reality of his existence...

Why is Draco helping Harry? Read and find out:)

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Harry and Draco landed with a thud, and Harry was startled to find himself right outside the Leaky Cauldron. He straightened up and quickly checked his pocket for his wand, just to make sure it was there, before turning to Draco with a questioning look. Draco shrugged.

"I figured this would be the best place to go," he mumbled, sounding nothing like his usual, cocky self.

The location had, of course, nothing to do with Harry's puzzlement, however, he let the matter lie for the moment, realising that the middle of a dark, London street was not exactly the ideal place to discuss Draco's loyalties. He gave the boy a nod and turned towards the building, walking quickly up to the door. Checking that Draco had followed him, he quickly opened it and stepped into the fairly deserted bar, looking around for Tom, the innkeeper.

After looking around for a few minutes Harry established that the innkeeper was, in fact, nowhere in sight, something he found extremely odd, seeing as he was always there, lurking in some corner, ready to 'welcome' anyone who so much as thought about setting a foot inside. Something wasn't quite right, he knew it. He stuck his hand inside his pocket and grabbed a firm hold of his wand, before heading over to a small table where two elderly witches sat talking animatedly and drinking something that looked suspiciously like tar –the only difference was that it was giving off a strange blue-coloured smoke. He put his hand up to his hair to flatten his fringe, not wanting to attract attention, but found that his hair had grown so long that this was no longer necessary; his bangs were already doing a very nice job of covering "that hideous scar," as his dearly devoted relatives would have put it.

As he and Draco approached the table, the two witches put a halt to their conversation and gave them both curious glances before they put down their glasses and sat up straight, seemingly wanting to appear polite and sophisticated. Harry had a sneaky suspicion they might have realised who he was, despite his well-hidden scar.

"Um," he said uncertainly, putting a hand absentmindedly to his head. "I was just wondering –you wouldn't happen to know where the –um, innkeeper might be, would you?"

They said nothing; they just kept staring at his head as though it were some sort of rare and unusual sight one didn't see every day. This was, naturally, not new to Harry, but nonetheless, it never did cease to annoy him, and he found himself tearing his hand rather violently from his head and taking a step towards them.

"–Or anyone else we might talk to, for that matter…" he continued, his tone revealing his mildly irritated state. The two ladies remained silent however, still staring at his head.

Harry raised his eyebrows at them, and was just about to say something rather impolite, when they both started smiling, and one of them waved at something a little to the side of his right ear. It occurred to him at that moment that they had, all along, been staring at someone behind his back, and, gritting his teeth, hoping it wasn't another Death Eater, he spun around and found that he was standing in front of a person he had had many thoughts about and multiple arguments with himself over during the past few weeks.

Harry looked at the man, and was reminded of how the sight of him would make him feel warm inside; happy; safe. Whatever his troubles might be, he would always consider them over whenever Albus Dumbledore arrived. His headmaster had always been a man he could put his faith in, however, the unique trust that had existed between them had all but evaporated since Sirius' death, at least on Harry's part. Dumbledore had been the pillar, the rock, the wise man who always knew everything, and Harry had learned to respect him for his serenity and conviction. He had come to see him as a loyal guardian and an unwavering friend, and that was why his disappointment had been so great after the events at the Ministry. Dumbledore's mistake had not only lost Harry the closest thing he had ever had to a real family; it had showed him that even the ones he thought he knew the best and trusted the most, could fail him completely. It had lessened his faith in people, and this lack of belief hurt him more than anything else, as friendship had always been so important to him. Now his headmaster stood surveying him closely, as he had done on so many other occasions, his eyes sad, but warm.

"Harry," he said simply as the innkeeper, who had finally appeared, started scurrying around, tidying things up and offering to take Dumbledore's cloak.

"That will not be necessary Tom, thank you," he said before turning to Draco, his expression becoming one of mild surprise. "Ah." He put a hand to his long, white beard. "Young Malfoy."

Draco, whose gaze had been fixed on the floor for a while, now looked up into the eyes of the headmaster, blinking slightly but keeping his expression determined as Dumbledore surveyed him thoroughly. Harry had a nasty suspicion legilimency was being used.

It seemed like they stood in silence for hours, but at long last, Dumbledore turned his gaze back to Harry and said "I wish to talk to you, Harry. Alone."

Harry wanted to tell his headmaster that he had no interest in talking to him, that whatever he had to say wasn't going to change anything; he wanted to tell him of his disappointment and make him feel guilty, really guilty, but he couldn't find the words so he just nodded, following Dumbledore out of the bar and into a small room at the very end of a long, dark hall.

The moment they were inside, Dumbledore shut the door and cast several silencing charms on the room before going over to a small table and sitting down in a little wooden chair, motioning to Harry that he should sit down opposite him.

Harry did as he was told, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Harry looked up to see his headmaster looking at him with a very concerned expression.

"Is everything alright, Harry?"

Harry just looked at him and resisted the urge to say 'Why yes, everything is perfectly fine. You know, I just lost my godfather, the last person who was anything like a family to me, I have completely lost hope that my life can ever turn out the way I want it to, everything irritates me, and my existence sucks –couldn't be better!' Instead he just put his head in his hands again, clenching his teeth furiously.

"My head hurts," he said quietly, which was also true; his head had started hurting slightly while he was still talking to Lucius Malfoy, and now it pretty much felt like someone had run over it with a freight train.

Dumbledore sighed wearily.

"That will often happen you know, when you-"

"I know." Harry cut him off sharply, lifting his eyes up to meet his headmaster's again, daring him to continue on the subject. How he knew in the first place was beyond Harry, but it didn't matter. He didn't need a lecture about it; the pain his head was in at the moment was enough to make him decide that he was never going to drink again, at least not to the extent he had been doing it that day.

Dumbledore nodded quietly, as if sensing what Harry had been thinking, and didn't press the matter further. Instead he leaned forwards carefully and fixed Harry with that all-knowing stare once again.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened tonight, Harry," he said, his voice soft and calm. "Every detail you can remember. It is of the utmost importance to both yourself and the Order."

Harry moved his seat backwards angrily.

"It's always like this, isn't it?" he said forcefully, standing up and glaring at his headmaster. "I go through something unpleasant and you come around afterwards, wanting to hear the details, picking up the loose ends, trying to fix everything. But you can't fix everything, especially not when the damage is already done… I can't always-"

He stopped; he didn't really know what he wanted to say, and he didn't know why he was refusing to answer Dumbledore's question in the first place. He tiredly sat back down in his chair and looked his headmaster straight in the eye.

"I went out, Malfoy followed –apparently- he took me to some sort of room with no windows or doors, he took my wand, mocked me, no doubt trying to get my temper up –Death Eaters seem to find that particularly amusing- he performed the Cruciatus curse on me a couple of times –nothing new, yadda yadda… When he tried to do it one last time however, I sort of just held out my hand, said 'wand,' and the thing came flying into my hand. I disarmed, stunned, and bound Malfoy, then Malfoy –that is, Draco- surprisingly helped me apparate out of there." Harry said all of this in a slow, monotonous drawl, never taking his eyes away from Dumbledore's.

Suddenly, he thought of something that should have occurred to him earlier in the evening, and probably would have, had he been in any fit state to think properly, or think at all, for that matter.

"Um," he said hesitantly, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Will the Ministry of Magic –um-"

He was cut short by a coy smile from his headmaster.

"I think you will find, Harry, that after the happenings of last month, and its unwarranted behavior of last year, the Ministry will be more than willing to overlook this particular incident." Dumbledore gave him a reassuring look before adding,

"The wizarding world owes you as much."

Harry nodded, feeling, if not a whole lot better, slightly less nervous than he had been a few moments ago. His nervousness had, however, caused his anger to abate, and now, lacking that emotion to restrict it, it came back with full force. He was growing tired of this conversation; all he wanted was to go to bed and sleep for a while, feeling perhaps, just for a while, like a normal person. His headmaster was not finished with his inquiries however, and now he fixed Harry with that questioning, all-penetrating look yet again.

"You just said that you performed wandless magic Harry, am I right?" Dumbledore said quietly. Harry shrugged.

"If that's what you call it…" he mumbled. Dumbledore nodded patiently.

"It is indeed," he confirmed. "It is also a quite impressive thing to be able to do. Few wizards can. –I can," he added, at the curious look on Harry's face. "Only to a certain extent of course; certain spells simply can't be done without a wand. The killing curse is an example of that. No one has ever succeeded when trying, at any rate." Harry frowned, his anger now replaced by curiosity.

"Wouldn't all spells of such complexity be impossible to do without a wand?" he asked, interrupting his headmaster. "I have read a little over the summer, and I came across a paragraph in a book that spoke of wandless magic. From what I could tell, only very simple spells can be done without a wand, summoning spells and such." Dumbledore nodded knowingly.

"Most wizards, if they possess the ability to do magic without a wand, an ability very few do possess, can indeed only do the simplest of spells using only their hands. However, there are exceptions. Few, but they do exist." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled; he seemed almost excited for a moment, then he turned his head down and sighed heavily.

"I have found myself to be an exception," he said calmly, and Harry did not find this bit of information the least bit surprising. If anyone was to be an exception when it came to magic, it had to be Dumbledore. Now his headmaster lifted his head back up and again fixed his gaze on Harry.

"I showed no sign of my ability however, before I was much older." His eyes twinkled again. "You are very young, Harry. I have not heard of many cases where the wizard performing controlled, wandless magic has been under thirty years of age. I do emphasize controlled, of course, because nearly all young wizards have performed some form of wandless magic, or thought-magic, as it is also called (Harry nodded, recognizing this name from his summer readings), at some point, without meaning to. You know all about this, of course." Harry nodded again.

"To be able to control it is, however, a different matter altogether." The headmaster paused and Harry quickly made use of the silence.

"So you are saying that I could be an exception, is that it?" Dumbledore merely sat there in silence, seeming to examine him as he pondered. Then Harry was struck by a sudden thought.

"Can Voldemort do magic without a wand?" he asked, lowering his voice. He didn't know why he had bothered to do this; Dumbledore had, after all, cast numerous silencing charms on the room. It just seemed like an appropriate thing to do when speaking of Voldemort.

Dumbledore smiled. Harry had apparently asked the question the headmaster was hoping he would ask.

"You will find that Tom Riddle's magic is limited to wand-magic only," he said, then added as an afterthought "-at least as of this day." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"So the power the Dark Lord knows not –could that be it then?" he said hopefully, feeling all of a sudden that things might just work out after all. Dumbledore folded his hands and leaned his head upon them, his smile fading.

"I am afraid it is not quite that simple, Harry," he replied, looking very sad indeed. "I believe, I can not be quite sure, but I do believe, as I have said before, that Voldemort transferred a little bit of himself into you the night he tried to kill you –the night he killed your parents. And I believe thus that you have not only your inherited magic, which is quite formidable by itself –your father and mother were an astounding witch and wizard- but you also have some of his, Voldemort's, power. And this, I believe, gives you the potential to be infinitely more powerful than he could ever be. I believe that his and your power combined, the power that flows within you, is the power the prophecy speaks of."

Harry frowned again.

"But wait, I thought that the power the Dark Lord knows not was all about my mother's love for me –that was what you told me at the end of last year, was it not?" he said, suddenly remembering his and the headmaster's conversation at the end of last term. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, that is indeed part of it," he replied calmly. "But I have given the topic a lot of thought over the summer, and when I thought about what Voldemort did to you at the end of your fourth year; how he overcame the obstacle of your mother's love's protection, I thought that her love for you could not possibly be the only power the prophecy spoke of. If so, we would already be defeated, would we not? At least in theory. We do not know everything your mother's love may have done for you, and we can not know until something happens to show it to us. It is a very mysterious form of magic, love. Especially one as strong as your mother's love for you."

Harry nodded, lowering his head. He felt a lump in his throat, and he was determined not to break down in front of the headmaster. But damn, those kind, sympathetic eyes were not making it easy…

They sat in silence for a while, Harry trying to stay calm, Dumbledore all the while watching him closely. Harry wished he wouldn't.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, after a long pause. "Harry, I think you have been through enough for one night. I think, perhaps, it is time to get some rest, hmm?" Harry looked up at him again and sighed.

"Yeah," he said weakly, getting to his feet. "Yeah, I'm pretty tired."

Dumbledore got up as well and came over to him, putting an arm around his shoulder, as he was having some difficulty walking properly. His head felt as if it had been split in two, and his vision was becoming very fuzzy. His whole body felt like lead, and he really just needed to find somewhere to lie down and, preferably, sleep for many hours.

Dumbledore removed the silencing charms and opened the door quietly, leading Harry through it. Before they started walking down the hall however, he turned to Harry again, grasping his shoulders.

"Just before I leave you, I thought you should know," he said in a whisper. "We are looking for Lucius Malfoy, though we have had little luck as of yet. We do find strong traces of magic around certain spots however, and we do believe the place you were in was above the ground. I am going to speak to young Mr. Malfoy now, and I am hoping he will be able to give us some information, maybe even lead us there." The headmaster paused for a moment and looked around before he continued. "We are also questioning him thoroughly about his loyalties and trying to find out if it is, in fact, safe to trust him."

"Can't Veritaserum get you far there?" Harry interrupted quietly. Dumbledore gave him an affirmative nod.

"Yes, we will be using Veritaserum," he admitted. "We have to make sure that you will be perfectly safe in his company (Harry narrowed his eyes) –yes, Harry, assuring that he is to be trusted, you will be in his company. He is in danger as well now, you know. Lucius Malfoy does not look kindly on those who betray him, regardless if they are family. Draco Malfoy is not as pampered and spoiled as you think (Harry raised his eyebrows) –with presents and other material things, perhaps, but there is little love in the Malfoy family."

Dumbledore stopped abruptly, turning Harry around and leading him down the long hallway to the bar again. When they walked into the room, Harry could see that he, Dumbledore, Draco, and the innkeeper were now the only ones there. Draco looked very tired, but he still jumped up when they entered the room and when Dumbledore asked if he could question him, he didn't object.

They took Harry to his room first, making sure everything was ok, then, after the headmaster had bid him goodnight, they walked off and left him there by himself.

The first thing Harry noticed was that there were two beds in the room; it appeared that, as long as Draco was proven trustworthy, he would be staying very close to Harry. Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. The boy had helped him escape from Lucius Malfoy, but only after Harry had showed a spectacular display of power.

He didn't seem too happy about his father torturing you though, a little voice said in his ear. And the little voice was right in that. Draco had seemed different in a way, but it wasn't enough to convince Harry that he had switched sides completely. He might be having second thoughts about this and that, but Harry doubted that anyone like Draco Malfoy could have had a complete turnaround.

Harry walked over to his bed and lay down without bothering to undress. His mind was racing; the events of the evening were playing again and again inside his head, and he couldn't really come to a decision on anything.

He soon fell into a restless sleep, only to be awoken a little later by a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes carefully, then, as he saw whom the hand belonged to, he sat bolt upright and backed away.

Draco mumbled "Sorry," and went over to his own bed, sat down, and looked at Harry.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said quietly, looking uncomfortable. "It sounded like you were having a nightmare or something."

Harry got up, rather embarrassed at his reaction and started pacing the room. He did just have a nightmare; just one of many about Sirius and Voldemort and death and destruction…

"Sorry," Harry said back, thinking that he must still be dreaming, as he was apologizing to a Malfoy. "I did have a nightmare… I have a lot of those." He stopped, fixing his gaze on Draco.

"I wanted to ask you though, since I'm up anyway, why did you suddenly decide to help me tonight?" he said carefully. Draco looked down at his sheets for a moment, then looked up again.

"It wasn't so sudden, really," he started. "My father has, as you know, all my life, told me that certain people are worth more than others. All my life, he has been telling me of the Dark Lord and his ambitions and his magnificence. All my life, I have been trained to be a Death Eater, just like my father. And it all seemed so great. I felt that it was right; we were the ones who were standing up to power and choosing our own, independent way." Draco pulled his fingers absentmindedly through his hair, gave Harry a quick look, and continued.

"Anyway," he said, straightening up. "This summer my father –the git- took me with him to a Death Eater meeting, and I got to see the Dark Lord in person for the first time in my life. It was, at least, the first time I can remember. I could sense a great power emanating from him, no doubt about that, and in the beginning, I was impressed. My glorious fantasy of him, and of us, was soon to be squashed however. As the meeting proceeded, I became more and more aware of what was driving my father and the others present to serve this man; it wasn't loyalty, it wasn't, as I had imagined, pride and honor; it was fear. Pure fear. They were all cowards, and that was the reason they were there. They cowered under his glare and froze under his wand. They had no self-respect whatsoever! Even my father, whom I had admired my entire life for being someone of rank and dignity, squirmed like a frightened animal when the Dark Lord advanced on him. It was disgusting."

Draco paused, seemingly to angry for words. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom in a towering rage. Harry heard water running, and shortly after Draco reemerged, his face and hair completely soaked. Now he went over to stand opposite Harry, and lunged into his tale again, without a word on his strange behavior.

"Well," he started, as if nothing had happened. "Later that evening, or night, my f- …Lucius decided that he wanted me to come along on one of their raids. So I followed them to a little muggle town, where they chose a completely random house and rang the doorbell, as casual as anything. When the slightly confused, middle-aged man came out to greet them, they promptly put him under the Imperius curse and made him tie up his wife, then kill his three children. One of the little girls probably hadn't yet turned three. After they had all watched this, they lifted the curse from him and left." Draco shuddered violently, and took to rubbing his shoulders gently, as if he were cold.

"They were laughing, Harry, while doing this," he said, sounding thoroughly miserable. "They had cowered under the glare of that madman, scared for their own lives, just an hour before, and now they stood there watching the whole, horrendous thing with smiles on their faces. They are hypocrites, the lot of them! To think I ever even considered joining their ranks –to think that I would ever have been part of something so pathetic, so pointless, so blatantly evil… And then, when I saw you tonight, how beaten down you looked –and when I got to witness how strong you were despite of it, and how my f- how that man used your courage, -it was just…"

Draco shuddered again and went over to his bed, sitting down and pulling all his blankets around himself. Harry went over to his own bed and sat down as well, not knowing quite what to make of all this. This was Draco; Draco who, just a month ago, would have stopped at nothing to make his life hell, Draco who was thought by everyone to be the most firm supporter of Voldemort at Hogwarts, Draco who would never miss a chance to call someone a mudblood. Draco.

"I know what you're thinking," Draco said quite unexpectedly, making Harry turn his head up so quickly that he hurt his neck.

"Oh yeah?" said Harry snidely, rubbing it carefully. "What, you're a legilimens now?" Draco's eyes flared with anger as he shook his head slowly.

"I didn't mean it like that, you prat," he said forcefully, suddenly back to sounding like a Malfoy. "You're thinking that you can't trust me after the behavior I've displayed during the past five years. I don't blame you. I'm not asking for immediate trust either, and I certainly will not beg you for it. All I ask is a chance."

He raised his eyebrows as if saying 'Well, how about it then?' and Harry found himself letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine then," he said tersely. "I will give you a chance, if that is all you want."

Draco nodded curtly and Harry flopped down onto his pillows, now so exhausted he could hardly keep his eyes open. He heard Draco clear his throat loudly and he sat up again, glaring at the boy.

"What – now?" Harry said irritably.

"Uh, do you usually sleep with all your clothes on?" Draco asked, looking highly disdainful. "Didn't the mug- I mean, didn't your dear relatives teach you about pyjamas?"

Harry let out a snort of laughter. He found it quite amusing that Draco had stopped himself from calling his relatives for muggles, especially as it was a term he used often himself, when speaking about them.

"It's fine, you can call them muggles, -that's what they are aren't they?" Harry said, still amused. "Just don't call people mudboods and such. Muggle is only a descriptive term, after all."

"So is mudblood though," Draco replied, smirking. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, Malfoy," Harry said, as if talking to a two-year-old. "Mudblood is a highly derogatory term, and you know it full well. And yes, I do know about pyjamas, I am just too tired to even think of moving right now, so I am going to sleep just as I am. Do you have a problem with that?" Draco stopped smirking and let out a huge yawn.

"No," he said tiredly. "No, whatever, I could care less."

And with that, they both lay down. Draco, it seemed, fell asleep immediately, but Harry, despite his fatigue, could not seem to relax. He was so confused; everything had turned itself upside-down in one day, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it so much. He lay in deep rumination for a long time, and at long last he drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow, everything would be different.

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Sorry it took me so long to update -I hope you liked it! Please review! 


	4. Friends?

Hello everyone! Sorry again that it has taken me forever to update. I have been very busy lately, and some of the time I have been without a properly functioning computer. So I hope you will forgive me. And I also hope that you will like this chapter. So, without further ado, I give you chapter four! Have fun..!

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Harry awoke the next morning to find the room deserted. As he got up out of bed, he noticed a note lying on the chair next to it, carefully folded. He put on his glasses before picking it up and sitting down on his bed again, looking at it distrustfully. He turned it over a couple of times, as if making sure it wasn't hexed, then focused his eyes on the message the little piece of paper bore. It was written in neat, curly handwriting, and looked as though it might have taken half an hour to write. Harry was not surprised to see Draco's signature at the bottom. The note read:

_Harry, _

_Sorry, -it appears that the aurors had a number of questions to ask me as well, so Dumbledore woke me early this morning. He told me to write you a note so that you wouldn't worry (I would have told him to get a life, but I didn't feel that would make the best impression, so I figured it was best to just comply with his needs for the time being). _

_So now that we are all assured you will not wake up and worry yourself sick, everything should be quite in order, and Dumbledore should be happy. For now anyway. That was all._

_Oh, one more thing. Dumbledore also told me to tell you that you are just to go downstairs and breakfast will be provided for you. So you won't starve, you know. _

_- Draco_

Harry almost laughed out loud. The formality with which Draco had written this simple note was hilarious. Harry also found himself appreciating the sarcasm, the remark about Dumbledore striking his fancy in particular. He found it comforting that there was someone else out there who, like him, every now and then thought the headmaster's words were slightly funny, if not downright bizarre.

He stood up again and put the note back on the chair before stretching and walking over to the bathroom. Once he had closed the door he glanced quickly at his reflection, then bent over the sink, pouring water into his hands and transferring it to his head in a vain attempt to make his hair behave. He realised fairly quickly that his efforts were getting him nowhere however, and gave it up, sighing as he opened the door and walked back out.

Harry looked around the room for a few seconds and then found what he was looking for; his trunk with all his belongings and Hedwig's cage were standing in a corner not far from the door, and he wasn't surprised to see them there. He would probably have been far more surprised if they hadn't been fetched for him.

He walked over to them and grabbed hold of his trunk, dragging it over to his bed. Once this task was accomplished, he opened it and started rummaging around inside the thing, looking for something to wear. This wasn't an easy task, as all his clothes seemed to be hidden beneath heaps of books that he had ordered that summer along with an assortment of newspaper clippings and odd bits of parchment.

Finally, after a five minute-long search, he straightened up, holding a pair of worn jeans, a plain black shirt (one of the only things he owned that hadn't been Dudley's) and a pair of regular black socks he couldn't really remember having seen before.

After having put his clothes on, he noticed that he was, in fact, very hungry, so he decided to go downstairs like Draco had said to see what he could find to eat.

Once downstairs, he noticed that the place was far more crowded than it had been the night before, and he really hoped that the happenings of last night hadn't already leaked out to the press; the last thing he wanted to do was spend his morning talking to nosy reporters.

It was as though thinking this had jinxed him though, for as soon as the word 'reporter' came to his mind, the whole room seemed to turn around and notice him, several of them scurrying over with quill and parchment ready in their hands.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, I'm from the Daily Prophet," said a particularly eager woman, taking his hand and shaking it forcefully. Harry didn't know quite what to do; a whole crowd of people was forming around him, ogling his scar and taking it in turns to shake his hand, which he wasn't even holding out. Most of them seemed to be from the Prophet, but there were a few from various other, smaller papers and magazines who wanted to hear his story as well.

Harry tried to step backwards, but found there were people there too, with quills at the ready, eyeing him with hungry eyes, practically begging him for information. It was all a bit too much for Harry; he was completely trapped, and he couldn't hear anything because everyone was trying to make his or her question heard first, and they were all yelling on top of each other.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what happened, all he knew was that his temper rose to boiling point, and the next thing he knew, he was screaming.

"OK, SHUT UP!"

Everyone around him, and everyone else in the vicinity for that matter, abruptly stopped talking and looked at him with shocked expressions. Harry took a few deep breaths before speaking again.

"Thank you," he said, still trying to calm down. "Now, if you could all just move back a little; I am finding it difficult to breathe at the moment."

They all moved back, still looking at him as though he had just fallen from the moon. Harry took another deep breath.

"All right," he said, trying to sound normal. "You had some questions for me I believe –one at a time, please."

Their shocked expressions turned to ones of delight as they realised that he was actually going to let them question him. The witch who had approached him first raised her hand tentatively and Harry nodded in her direction, starting to find the situation quite amusing. It was like one of those press conferences movie stars had all the time. He found himself thinking that he was very he glad he wasn't one.

"Yes," the witch said hurriedly, placing her quill on the parchment she was holding and giving Harry a dazzling smile. "I was wondering if you could tell me exactly what happened last night."

This question seemed to be the one most of the reporters wanted an answer to, as every one of them started scribbling frantically on his or her parchment.

"Ok," Harry said, thinking that it couldn't hurt to tell them the surface details. "Last night I decided to go for a little stroll in my neighbourhood. This turned out to be a very bad idea as one of Voldemort's (the whole assembly shuddered in unison) Death Eaters had decided upon the same thing. To give you the short version, he decided to abduct me and take me to a strange place I still have no idea where was, where he was intending to have Voldemort (more shuddering) come collect me and, I suppose, murder me. That has, after all been his intent for the past sixteen years… or so."

The reporters stared at him with expressions of mixed horror and excitement. The witch who had asked him the question stepped back a few paces, allowing someone else to take the stand, and another soon took her place; a man with tangled grey hair stepped up and nodded quickly at Harry before clearing his throat loudly.

"I am Albert Griggs," he said quickly. "Could you tell me, in detail, what happened in that –um- "strange place you still have no idea where was"?"

Harry sighed. He was afraid of this; they were bound to start asking him questions that demanded detailed answers, and he didn't think he should give them answers of that sort. For one thing, he didn't trust them. Another thing was that he really didn't want them to acquire enough information to write a big article on him; he wasn't all that fond of being in the newspaper.

_It is in situations like these that lying comes in handy_, said a sneaky voice in his head.

Harry frowned at the reporter.

"Well," he started, trying to find something to say that wouldn't make it too obvious that he was withholding information. "The Death Eater took me to this place –like I said, I still don't know where it was, exactly– it was a fairly small room shaped like a square, just like ordinary rooms. It didn't have any windows though (Harry decided to leave out the part about the room having no doors). That was slightly odd I guess, but I suppose it could have been in a basement somewhere. I really don't know though. All I know is that he started speaking to me of what a stupid little boy I was and that Voldemort (yet another shudder made it's way around the circle) would come for me soon. The Death Eater was careless though, and forgot to disarm me, so after a little while, I managed to stun him and escape from there."

The people standing around him looked stunned. The wizard who had asked the question was not satisfied, however.

"Which Death Eater was it?" he inquired curiously. Harry sighed again.

"I don't know," he lied. "They wear masks, you know."

The reporter still wasn't happy though.

"Couldn't you have recognised him by his voice though?" he asked, making Harry so exasperated that he actually took a step towards the man.

"What," Harry asked back. "Makes you think that I can identify Death Eaters by their voices?"

Harry glared at him, and the man stepped back carefully, holding his hands up as if to say that he surrendered. Harry then looked around at the rest of them, daring them to challenge his statement; goodness knows he could use a good excuse to vent his frustration and the anger that had been building up inside of him all summer.

No one else got a chance to ask him any further questions though, for at that moment Draco stormed into the Leaky Cauldron, and, looking very exasperated, yelled,

"Damn it!"

A moment later, as every person in the room turned to face him, he smiled hesitantly and stuttered,

"Uh- I mean, hello everyone." His grin looked rather pained. "Um- sorry about that, don't mind me, just had a minor setback there and –uh- let myself get a bit carried away… heh… So, -uh- just go back to your –um- whatever it is you're all doing and, um, I'll just be heading off then, away from- I mean, yes."

He put a hand up to his face and hurriedly made his way through the crowd. Harry couldn't help but grin as Draco nearly knocked him over in his attempt to get away from everyone and fell to the ground, flailing his arms wildly about him, trying to catch his fall.

Draco got up quickly and looked frantically around for what he had bumped into, turning at last to face Harry, who was trying to hide his amused smirk. Draco frowned deeply and looked around at the reporters surrounding him.

"Giving another interview are we, Potter?" he said scathingly, back to his old, condescending manner of speaking.

Harry's smirk faded and he gave Draco a very ugly look as he stepped towards him.

"That's none of your business now, is it _Malfoy_?" Harry bitingly replied, intentionally putting emphasis on Draco's last name.

Draco narrowed his eyes and took a step forwards as well.

"I suppose not," he said, speaking much louder than needed. "And, by all means, let me not stand in your way as you tell these good people of your last, glorious adventure. Someone should write a book on you, you know. So that everyone can know just how _glorious_ you are."

Harry gritted his teeth and grabbed Draco's arm forcefully.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he hissed, as Draco winced slightly and tried to free his arm while Harry started leading him towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. When they were directly in front of the brick wall, Harry let go of Draco's arm and turned to face him once again.

"Now," said Harry, sticking his hand in his pocket and pulling out his wand. "You can continue insulting me once we're in here (he pointed to the brick wall that concealed their entrance). But if you would let me explain first, which, if I know you right, you probably won't, I would appreciate it."

With that, Harry tapped the bricks with his wand and the entrance took form, showing them the many streets and buildings that made up Diagon Alley.

Harry stepped through first, blinking a bit in the bright sun; Draco came out right after him, looking very displeased.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Harry all the while trying to find somewhere they could sit down and talk without being overheard or ambushed by reporters. Draco wasn't looking very happy at all; he seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed the prospect of getting into a fight with Harry in front of those people. It would no doubt, in his opinion, have made a quite good story.

After about ten minutes of wandering around, Harry finally found the kind of place he was looking for. It was a slightly dingy-looking place, and the only one of its kind Harry had ever seen in Diagon Alley. Draco looked very reluctant to go in, but Harry put his hands on the boy's back and pushed him through the door.

"This is good," he said, content. Draco gave him a look of pure loathing, but didn't say anything as they sat down in the far right corner of the room.

"So," Draco said when they had finally settled down in their corner. "It must be very important, what you have to say… You do realise that we are more likely to be overheard in a place like this, right? Hardly any people, hardly any noise, hardly anything to hide our voices behind."

Harry nodded. He had thought of that. He did, after all, remember the fiasco of having the first DA-meeting in the Hog's Head last year. This time he wasn't really planning on discussing anything secret however, he just wanted to avoid the reporters for a while, and he figured this would be the best place to do just that. And he was right too, as there wasn't a single reporter in the place. He pointed his views out to Draco, who rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Ok, so you think I am a complete lunatic," Harry said exhaustedly. "But I really just wanted to get away from the Leaky Cauldron, for contrary to what you may think, I loathe the attention this damned scar (he pointed to his head) gives me. I just thought it would be better to tell them something, something that may not have been completely true, but all the same, I thought it better to tell them something than to have them following me around all day, begging for statements. At least this way they have gotten a little story, and I hope that will satisfy them for a while."

Harry sighed wearily and put his head in his hands; it was starting to hurt again.

"Your head hurting?" Draco said, right on cue.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Did you have anything to eat this morning?" Draco continued, frowning.

Harry shook his head carefully.

"Well no wonder your head's hurting then." Draco said matter-of-factly, sounding almost like Hermione for a moment.

Harry gritted his teeth and looked up.

"Thank you, Draco, that was very helpful. Do you have any other deep connections to make, or do you think you could close the office for today?"

Draco sent him an ugly look and crossed his arms in a very indignant manner. Harry took his head out of his hands and sighed again.

"I'm sorry," he said, causing Draco to raise his eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into his sleek hair. "Yes, that's right. I just apologised. To a Malfoy. I must be insane. However, one thing I wanted to say right away is that I didn't include you in my tale of what happened last night when I was talking to the reporters. I figured it wouldn't be smart, seeing as your being there would pretty much give away your father's being there as well, and I didn't think it wise to give them that much information. So I made it look like I got out of there by myself."

Harry paused, suddenly feeling extremely awkward, thinking that he had never even thanked Draco for getting him out of that room.

"Uh, yeah, I meant to thank you for that, by the way… I just –um- forgot. I guess. So –uh- thank you."

Harry felt very strange, never having thought that he would ever say such things to a Malfoy. Draco seemed to think it quite odd as well; he was frowning slightly, wearing an expression that told Harry quite plainly that he had no idea what he should do.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, then Draco finally cleared his throat and spoke, the cockiness once again gone from his voice.

"Um," he said, paused for a moment, and then continued. "Yeah, you're –uh- welcome, I guess."

He looked down for a moment, then let out an exasperated sigh and looked Harry determinedly straight in the eye.

"This is ridiculous," he said irritably. "You are entirely welcome. Thank you for saying thank you. I appreciate it. I don't mind your not mentioning me in the interview-thing. I understand perfectly well that you could not give them all the information they wanted. If you had done that, well, then you would just have been plain stupid. So now that we have all that out of the way, shall we call it a day and head back?"

He gave Harry a would-be sweet smile and made an elegant gesture towards the door. Harry rolled his eyes and got up, shoving past Draco as he headed in the direction of the exit.

Once outside he continued walking, not bothering to check if Draco had followed him or not. That boy could make him so frustrated! One moment, he would be very nice and completely agreeable, and the next he would be a complete prat.

Harry picked up speed, now walking at a very brisk pace, and did not stop until he reached the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. The entrance had just formed itself when Draco came running up behind him, panting and holding a hand to his chest.

"You – prat!" he said, following Harry into the cool shade of the inn. "I wasn't trying to insult you or anything. You don't have to take everything so fucking personally you know..!"

Harry turned around on the spot, raising his eyebrows.

"Nice language," he said haughtily.

"Says you," Draco curtly replied.

Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he merely shrugged. At this, Draco's face broke into a huge grin, and he walked up to Harry and held out his hand.

"You know, I really think we should just start all over again. From the very beginning," he said. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you."

He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it politely. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Harry Potter," he said. "Nice to meet you too."

He let go of Draco's hand and Draco gave him a coy smile.

"Friends?" he asked. Harry shook his head, grinning.

"Who knows?" he said quietly. "Maybe we will be."

Harry frowned for a moment, suddenly remembering Draco's outburst when he came into the Leaky Cauldron earlier that morning.

"Hey, one thing-" he said, and Draco, who had turned around to go upstairs, turned back and faced him.

"Yeah?"

"Well, -um- when you came in today, and you had your little –uh- outburst –what was that all about?"

Draco's smile faded and was replaced by a very gloomy look.

"Oh that," he said darkly. "The aurors and Dumbledore found the room we were in yesterday, but my father escaped."

* * *

Well, I hope you all liked it... I promise you that more things will be happening in the next chapter. I am planning for it to be the journey back to Hogwarts, so that should hopefully be a little interesting. Oh well, please please please review! And, as always, if you have any questions, feel free to contact me (my e-mail should still be displayed in my profile). I will try to answer your questions if you post them with your reviews as well, but I can't promise anything. Thanks, all! 


	5. Meetings and Disapprovals

**A/N:** Hello everyone! I hope you are happy that, this time, I did not make you wait forever for an update! Well, here it is anyway. It is longer than my other chapters, and if you dislike long chapters, I am sorry. I had the whole thing planned out, and then, while I was writing it, I got all these other ideas and simply had to put them in... Oh well. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter! Please keep them coming, guys. I really need them!

**Dislaimer:** Thought I'd put one of these in this chapter. Just so no one deletes my story or anything. Still don't own Harry Potter. So that's that.

* * *

The weeks went by very quickly, and both Harry and Draco had plenty to do; Draco was busy with homework, as he had been previously unable to do it, and Harry, who had been extremely bored during the month he had had to spend with the Dursleys and had, therefore, finished all his homework weeks ago, had several books to read that he had ordered that summer. Harry and Draco also spent a lot of time in Diagon Alley, walking around, looking at books and brooms, and talking. It was strange to Harry how much faster time went by when he had something to do and someone to spend it with. 

A week after Harry and Draco had come to the Leaky Cauldron, they both received something they had been waiting for since the end of last year; their OWL-results had finally come. Harry had done a lot better than he had thought;

In Charms he had received an O on his theoretical exam and an E on his practical one, he had gotten E's on both his Transfiguration exams, and in Herbology. In Defence Against the Dark Arts he had, as expected, gotten two O's, and in Potions he had, to his great surprise received an O on the written exam and an E on the practical one. He didn't know quite how he had achieved this, -he must have known more about Potions than he had realised. He had also received an O on his Care of Magical Creatures exam. Harry was, all in all, very happy with himself until he reached Astronomy. He had gotten an E on his written exam, but had, due to the distraction during the test, only received an A on his practical exam. Then came Divination. On that exam Harry had received a P, and he was actually surprised that he hadn't gotten a D. That grade came on his History of Magic exam though. But Harry was, all in all, very happy with his results, and he spent the rest of the vacation feeling a lot better about himself than he had done in a long time.

The last day of the vacation came and went, and before Harry knew it, his trunk was packed and he and Draco were sitting in a Ministry-provided car on the way to King's Cross.

The Ministry and its officials had, naturally, tried to humble themselves and apologise to Harry after they realised that he and Dumbledore had been telling the truth all last year, and this was one of the ways they were trying to do just that. They had also conveniently ignored his use of magic the night he had been kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy.

The article about him, and this incident, had, to Harry's great relief, been extremely short; the only information the reporters had managed to acquire was the little he had told them. Now, as he was sitting in the car, he thought that he had, for once, been smart in what he had done. For had he not told them anything, they would certainly have become even more curious, gone further into it, and found out more details.

The ride to King's Cross took only twenty minutes, and Harry and Draco were soon entering the station, dragging their trunks and Hedwig's cage behind them, moving towards the barrier that hid platform nine-and-three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express would be waiting for them. They were early, as Harry had requested earlier due to the fact that he didn't want any surprise meetings with Ron or Hermione before he was ready to see them. He would just have to make himself ready on the train.

As they passed through the barrier, Harry first, closely followed by Draco, their eyes were met by the familiar sight of the scarlet steam engine waiting to take them to Hogwarts. They climbed on board and found an empty compartment at the very end of the train (actually, almost all of the compartments were empty, but they figured the further back, the better) where they put all their stuff, Harry putting Hedwig's cage on the seat next to him.

They sat in the compartment for a while, just talking about what was going to happen when they met up with Ron and Hermione and the rest of them. They found out that it was probably best to just wait and see.

When Draco's watch showed ten to eleven, he decided that he'd better go to the front of the train and join the other prefects, so he got up to leave, giving Harry an apologetic look as he opened the compartment door. Harry, finding this amusing, merely grinned and shrugged. Draco left the compartment and was on his way towards the other end of the carriage, when Harry thought of something.

"Draco!" he called, and Draco turned around, raising his eyebrows. "Be civil with them, ok?"

Draco merely gave him an evil grin and turned back around, opening the door that led to the carriage in front of them and closing it behind him as he disappeared.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. It was no use. Draco would be Draco. There was no point in trying to push it any other way. He sat back down, staring out of the window, and was soon lost in thought.

He didn't notice it when the compartment door slid open and someone sat down, saying his name softly. Only when the person reached out and poked him in the arm did he turn around, slightly startled.

"Ginny!" he said, still surprised at finding someone there. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

Ginny smiled and giggled slightly.

"You looked like you had been petrified or something," she said, clearly amused.

Harry smiled weakly.

"How's your summer been then?" he asked, hoping it had been eventful, as that would direct the conversation away from him.

"Oh, not bad," Ginny replied, shrugging. "Nothing out of the ordinary. –We did miss you though; we had been hoping you would have been able to make it to the Burrow this summer."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You weren't at Headquarters?" he asked.

"Some of the time," Ginny said. "But not all summer, no. Not like last year. We went back and forth quite a bit. It was actually quite annoying, cause we had to take every safety precaution in existence every single time we wanted to go somewhere. Then again, I suppose if you had made it we would have had to stay in one place a lot more, and I am guessing that one place would have been Grimmauld Place, so…"

She gave Harry a nervous glance, as if afraid that mentioning the name of Sirius' house would upset him. Harry just sighed.

"I guess so," he said sadly. "I was fine though. Spent a lot of time in Diagon Alley. Read a lot. Did all my homework, for a change."

Ginny looked sad too. She looked at her feet for a moment before fixing her gaze back on Harry and opening her mouth to speak.

"It's fine, Ginny, I'm fine," Harry said, before she had a chance to say anything. "You don't have to- everyone is always… I don't- It's ok, it's fine. Really."

Ginny didn't look satisfied.

"I was just going to say that I am sorry," she mumbled.

"You don't need to be," Harry curtly replied. "It isn't your fault. Don't be sorry for something you can't help. I have enough with being sorry myself, if I don't have to worry about making everyone else sorry as well."

Ginny looked offended, and Harry put his head in his hands, sighing in exasperation. He never did seem to find the right things to say. His words hadn't come out the way he had intended them to either; he hadn't meant to sound so short and irritated.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking up. "I didn't mean that. I'm an idiot. Just ignore me."

Ginny reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok, Harry," she said softly. "Just don't say that to Hermione. She'll cry."

Harry looked up to see Ginny grinning, and he couldn't help but smile himself. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he was laughing, and Ginny, who seemed to have been caught by surprise by this sudden reaction, was soon laughing with him. Everything was funny all of a sudden, and neither of them noticed it when the train started moving.

They sat for a while, saying the most random things they could think of and bursting into laughter every time, the Hogwarts Express moving ever further away from London. Harry couldn't remember having had this much completely pointless fun in a very long time, and it felt very good to be able to laugh properly again.

In the middle of one of Ginny's strange tales, the compartment door opened again, and Draco stepped in, causing Ginny to stop mid-sentence and scowl angrily.

"What do _you_ want?" she asked irritably as Harry, unnoticed by her, gave Draco a wave, now trying to hold back his laughter.

"Be civil, huh?" said Draco, frowning. "Not bloody easy with that attitude."

Ginny gave Harry a questioning look.

"It's ok," Harry said. "He's ok. It's all ok."

And with that, he burst into laughter again, completely clueless as to what he found so amusing. Draco raised his eyebrows at him.

"You need me to come over there and slug you?" he asked. "You haven't been-"

Harry sobered immediately to give Draco a very stern look, telling him without words that he should not continue on that particular topic while Ginny was with them.

Ginny was now looking so confused that Harry felt genuinely sorry for her.

"Look," he said calmly. "Draco and I were sort of forced to spend some time together this summer, so we both decided that it would be a good idea to just make the best out of it, and well… It didn't turn out to be so bad after all. –It sounds unbelievable, I know," he added, seeing Ginny's perplexed look.

"It's quite simple actually," Draco started, but Harry cut him off.

"Shut up, Draco."

Draco put a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended.

"Way to make a person feel appreciated."

Harry smiled, shaking his head.

"You moron," he said, amused, while Ginny looked back and forth between them, wearing the same bewildered expression.

"I can't believe this," she said suddenly, causing both Harry and Draco to stop their bickering and look at her. "How can this be? Why are you- and why is he-? This is not happening. Harry! What on earth will Ron and Hermione say? Ron'll have a fit –you know him…"

"Yes, I know Ron," Harry said tiredly, while Draco sat down, looking at her. "And it isn't… -something happened this summer, Ginny. Oh, sod it, I was kidnapped. By Lucius Malfoy. Draco helped me, ok? It all sort of developed from there."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Wait, you were kidnapped? By his father? And he helped you… -but what's to say he isn't going to betray your trust the first chance he gets?" Ginny said angrily, quite unconcerned by the fact that Draco was sitting right next to her.

"Veritaserum," Harry answered simply. "Don't think that Dumbledore, and I, didn't take precautions. And even after his words had been proven true, it took me a long time to trust him. I still wouldn't tell him anything of real importance –no offence, Draco-"

"None taken."

"-but I felt that, after what he did for me, he deserved a chance. And only that. One chance. Doesn't everyone deserve as much?"

"Well that depends," Ginny replied, eyeing Draco with great distrust. "But one can't just ignore everything that he has done to us over the past four or five years –how can you just forget that, Harry? The comments, the rude remarks, the ways in which he set us all up?"

Harry sighed, not knowing quite what to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but how was a different matter altogether.

"I think-" he started, putting a hand to his head and rubbing his scar absentmindedly. "-that people do stupid things. I think that a lot of the reason people do these things is pressure. No one's perfect, Ginny-"

"You can still do a whole lot better than-"

"Ginny, please," Harry said, exasperated.

"You know what?" Draco interrupted suddenly. "I really think I should just go."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said angrily, now so annoyed with everyone that he didn't know quite what to do.

"You know, you're always telling me to shut up," Draco said, also looking angry now.

"Well, that's because you're bloody bad at it, now isn't it?" Harry replied, as Draco gave him a look of pure loathing. "Look, I'm trying to explain and work everything out here, and you are both being idiots!"

"And who's to say you're not one?" Draco and Ginny said in unison.

Harry nearly screamed in frustration.

"NO ONE!" he cried. "No one's to say I'm not one! I am an idiot, ok? The whole bloody fucking world is an idiot! But you are both missing the point!"

Draco's mouth fell open and Ginny's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, now feeling utterly ashamed of himself on top of everything else. "I'm really sorry."

He looked at Draco, who nodded at him, looking as though he was finding the whole situation extremely awkward. He then looked at Ginny, and found himself thoroughly surprised; she was sitting there, a grin on her face, clearly trying to suppress laughter.

All of a sudden she couldn't suppress it any longer, and she burst into laughter, nearly falling out of her seat; Harry had to lunge over and grab her arm to keep her from doing just that.

"What on earth is funny?" Draco asked, as Harry struggled to keep Ginny in her seat.

"Nothing!" Ginny panted, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling herself to an upright position. "It's just (more laughter) –you sounded just like Ron, Harry… And I'm not used to you sounding like Ron. It really doesn't become you…"

She laughed again, tears now rolling down her face.

It took a while for her to calm down, but when she finally did, she turned to Draco.

"One chance," she said, back to being serious. "One."

Then she turned to Harry.

"I think Ron and Hermione will be coming soon," she said quietly. "They are probably looking for you right now; they were both very anxious to see you. Ron will not be happy though, but you know that of course. He was in a very good mood this morning though, so that may be of some help. Ron's mood can, naturally, change very quickly when he hears or sees something he doesn't like, as you know."

Harry nodded. He had been dreading that particular reunion for some time, not because he didn't want to see Ron again, but because he knew that Ron wouldn't be very understanding when it came to the whole situation with Draco.

"I'll try not to scream at him," Harry said, grinning slightly.

"Good plan," Ginny said, smiling too. "But I think I have to move around a little now –I haven't said hello to everyone yet. So I'll see you later, Harry."

And with that, she got up and opened the compartment door, closing it behind her as she left.

"Well, that was interesting," Draco muttered, after a small pause.

Harry put his head in his hands again and groaned.

"They're going to think I've lost it completely," he said bitterly. "Ron, especially, is not going to understand. Ginny was always good at listening and accepting things. Ron, well, he just isn't. Hermione –I really don't know what she will think."

"Well, I think they're all idiots," Draco said sourly.

Harry lifted his head up out of his hands to give him an irritated look.

"Yeah, I realise that," he said curtly. "But that just isn't going to help, now is it?"

Draco gave him a bored look and moved over to where Ginny had been sitting a little while ago, fixing his gaze on the passing countryside and saying no more. Harry decided to leave the subject for now and got out a book he had been reading over the summer; it was a book about the Dark Arts, something that had started to fascinate him more and more by the day since the happenings at the Ministry. He had almost finished it, and was now reading the final chapter, which was about the Unforgivables. He was just about to start reading about the Cruciatus Curse when the compartment door slid open yet again, and a tall, redheaded, long-nosed boy stuck his head inside, saw Harry, and let out a triumphant yell.

"Found him!"

Harry hurriedly stowed the book away, not really wanting Ron and Hermione to see what he was reading, and turned to face them.

Ron came in first, looking gleeful, and Hermione came right after him.

"Harry! How are you?" she said breathlessly, looking as though she wanted to hug him. Then, spotting Draco, she frowned deeply and Ron, who had noticed him at exactly the same time as Hermione, looked from Draco to Harry and said in a very loud voice,

"What the blazes is he doing here?"

Draco, who didn't seem to have noticed them coming in, turned towards them with a look of mild surprise, which quickly turned to one of irritation as he noticed the looks they were both giving him.

"Oh, fantastic," he muttered angrily. "More people."

Harry scowled at him and Draco returned his look with a sarcastic smile whereupon Harry mouthed the word '_try'_ and Draco rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

"What is this prat doing here, Harry?" Ron said, trying again to get Harry's attention.

Harry turned slowly towards him and sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"He is here because I invited him," Harry said simply, almost enjoying the effect these words had on Ron.

First, he raised his eyebrows so high that Harry was in awe that they actually came back down. Then, his mouth fell open (Harry was surprised that it didn't hit the floor), and finally, he started sputtering.

"What-you-invited? Him? He-what-b-but-huh? You're kidding, right?"

"Just sit down, Ron, and I'll explain," Harry said calmly, trying not to laugh.

Ron wrinkled his nose, looking at Draco with contempt, and shook his head.

"I'll sit down when he gets out," he said stubbornly, causing Harry to become very annoyed.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to stand then," he said curtly, then turned his gaze to his other best friend. "Hermione?"

Hermione nodded quietly and sat down beside him.

"Well," Harry started. "The explanation –please be quiet Ron. I know you both read the article in the Daily Prophet about my being kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy, because I did get your letters."

Hermione gave him a puzzled and slightly hurt look. Harry, knowing what she was thinking, quickly said,

"I'm sorry I didn't respond. I was very busy with other things."

This was, of course, a lie, but Harry figured the truth, that he simply hadn't felt like writing, would only serve to hurt them and that it was, therefore, better to keep that small fact to himself for the time being.

"Anyway," Harry continued. "The article didn't tell everything, as I wasn't about to give away potentially dangerous facts to reporters I didn't know. The main thing I didn't mention was that Draco was with his father (Draco growled at the word) –sorry, Draco. He was with _Lucius_ at the time, and he helped me get out of there. I didn't know why at the moment, but it has been explained to me now. I'm not going to go into details, but the main fact is this: Draco has severed ties with the Dark Lord and his family; he did so in helping me, and for that, I owe him. So I am giving him this chance to prove himself truthful. One chance, that is all."

Ron didn't look convinced. Harry wasn't surprised, but it annoyed him all the same.

"Look," he said irritably. "I'm not asking you to trust him –I still have trouble with that part. I'm just asking you to keep your heads on and give him a chance."

Ron was looking as though Harry's words were part of a particularly nasty nightmare.

"Harry, this is Malfoy we are talking about," he said, the anger evident in his voice. "_Malfoy_. You can't possibly have forgotten all the nasty things we have had to put up with because of him-"

"Well, maybe people change!" Harry interrupted, causing Ron's face to go as scarlet as the Hogwarts Express.

"People-like-him-don't-change!" he said through gritted teeth. "What makes you think he can, after all the nasty things he has done?"

"My father was a right bastard when he was in school!" Harry retorted, his voice very loud now. "He would go around school, picking on those who were less popular than he was, ruffling up his hair so the girls would notice his big head! He was a conceited idiot, as was Sirius-"

Harry stopped mid-sentence, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He felt the all too familiar lump in his throat, and found himself, suddenly, struggling not to cry. Hermione put her hand on his arm and Ron stopped glaring at Draco for a moment to give him a sympathetic look. Harry didn't really want all that though, and soon found that his irritation at the situation was winning over his sorrow. He took a couple of very deep breaths and continued.

"My point is they both turned out ok," he said quietly, as he pushed Hermione's hand gently away from his arm. "Despite the fact that they were big-headed morons as teenagers, they didn't turn out that way as adults. People change, for better and for worse."

"Beautiful, Harry," Draco said suddenly, clapping and smiling in a very sarcastic way. "Somehow I don't think you've convinced them though."

"Oh, shove it Malfoy," Harry and Ron said in unison.

"And again," Draco mumbled. "Could I please speak though?"

He raised his eyebrows at Harry, who rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Thank you," Draco said shortly. "I know full well that you aren't about to forget everything that has happened and trust me. I've been a prat at times, I suppose, but, then again, so have you. I would apologise, only that I don't believe apologies are in order."

He turned to Ron.

"I hated you from the first moment I saw you, and you hated me from the first moment you saw me. Mutual hatred. Simple, really."

"But you only disliked me because you knew I was a Weasley, and therefore, poor," Ron said sourly.

Draco dismissed this statement with a wave of his hand.

"And you only disliked me because you knew I was a Malfoy."

Ron didn't look happy.

"I didn't like you because you were a complete idiot from the first moment I met you!" he said indignantly. "The first thing you did was comment on my hair and the so-called 'poor' state of my robes."

Draco frowned, looking as if he was trying to remember that first encounter.

"You're right," he said after a short pause. "I did comment on that, didn't I? Well, I know our families have never gotten along, so don't pretend as if my comments were the only reason you didn't like me."

"It's all beside the point!" Ron said, raising his voice. "You have always gone out of your way to make us miserable! Family hatred is no excuse for that, you prat!"

Now Draco was getting angry too.

"It's got everything to do with what you grow up with!" he yelled. "If your parents bring you up a certain way, it's hard to break with that –you're lucky, you haven't had to do any such thing!"

"Look at Harry's childhood!" Ron yelled back.

"Harry's relatives weren't about to bloody kill him if he did something that wasn't to their liking now were they?" Draco yelled furiously.

Ron blinked a couple of times and opened his mouth, but closed it again, clearly not knowing how to reply to a thing like that.

A long pause followed where everyone sat in awkward silence. Draco was breathing heavily; it didn't seem like he was used to losing his temper like that. Ron was leaning against the compartment door, looking at his feet. Harry was looking from one to the other, hoping one of them would stop being so stubborn and try to listen.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"I think Harry is right," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "I think people can change. I am uncertain about _him_ –uh- I mean –Draco. But I am willing to give him a chance… -Please Ron," she added, looking at him. "I am so tired of someone always yelling at our reunions. If it means something to Harry, can't we just…"

She looked at Ron, giving him a pleading look. Ron looked as though he would rather eat a whole bucket of flobberworms than try to be civil with a Malfoy, but nodded all the same.

"Fine," he said grumpily, finally sitting down next to Draco, though edging as far towards the wall as he could go. "I still can't believe that this is really happening though. It seems absurd to me."

"It did to me too," Harry said calmly, looking at Ron.

"It's so good to see you though Harry," Hermione said, smiling. "We missed you over the summer –you didn't really write much. Did your aunt and uncle keep you from sending a lot of mail?"

Harry shook his head slowly and Hermione looked slightly disappointed.

"I didn't write because I was upset, Hermione," he said truthfully. "I was upset at everyone and everything, and I thought it better not to write at all than to write something that would only end up upsetting you. I'm sorry. I'm feeling better now though."

Hermione smiled again, and Harry turned to look out of the window.

The rest of the train-ride passed in silence only broken by the lunch-lady coming by, and every now and then, someone coughing. As Hogwarts approached, Ron and Hermione, who hadn't put on their school robes yet, went to change, and came back as the train was pulling to a stop at the station.

When the train was fully stopped, they all got up and made their way out to the carriages that were going to take them up to the castle. They found an empty one quickly and everyone hurried in but Draco, who was staring at the front of it. His face had gone very white.

Harry didn't need to ask why.

"You can see them now," he said quietly.

Draco nodded and, tearing his eyes away from the thestral, got into the carriage.

As Harry looked at Draco he was overcome by curiosity and leaned forwards so that Ron and Hermione, who were having a conversation of their own, wouldn't hear his question.

"Why can you see them now?"

Draco didn't seem to want to look up, but when he did, Harry noticed that his eyes were very clear.

"You know that thing I told you about the night you were kidnapped?" he said quietly.

Harry nodded, assuming that he was talking about the Death Eater raid he had been made to go on.

"Well, they made me watch," Draco said unhappily, looking away.

Harry leaned back and looked out of the window.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

And as the carriages made their way up to the school, Harry knew that his idea of the world wasn't the only one that had come crashing down recently.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it guys. Please review -I am begging you on my knees. Pick at the minor details, tell me anything and everything you like and don't like. That way, I can improve as a writer. It is really important to me. Thanks a bunch! )  



	6. Only for the Strong

**A/N:** Hello everyone, and sorry again for not updating for a while... But here it is at last, chapter six. I hope you like it! Oh, and thanks so much to everyone who reviewed my last chapter! It helps, it really does!

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters.

* * *

The Great Hall was crowded. As Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione made their way inside, they noticed that Dumbledore was already standing, urging the students to take their seats quickly. Draco gave Harry a pained look, sighed heavily, and made his way over to the Slytherin table, sitting down at the end. Harry noticed that several of the Slytherins had put their heads together as Draco approached, and were now whispering animatedly, some pointing quite openly and sending him nasty looks. 

As Harry didn't think his staring was going to make Draco's situation any better, he focused his gaze instead on the headmaster, who was still standing and was watching the last students take their seats. As Harry looked at him their eyes met, and Dumbledore gave him a small nod before raising his hands, signalling that he wanted silence.

Ron and Hermione had sat down on either side of Harry, and had also fixed their gazes on the headmaster, Hermione wearing an expression of genuine interest as always, and Ron wearing an expression that told Harry quite plainly that he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast.

Ron turned towards Harry and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment the Great Hall fell silent, and he turned back to face the headmaster, who was smiling warmly at his students.

"Welcome," he said, holding his arms out as if he wanted to embrace them all. "I know you are all hungry and tired, but I am going to ask for your attention all the same, before the new students are sorted."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, and there was an outbreak of murmuring in the hall. It was not customary for the headmaster to speak to them like this; he usually gave any announcements after the first-years had been sorted and they had all eaten dinner.

Ron turned to Harry with a questioning look. Harry shrugged, letting his gaze fall briefly on his best friend before turning his eyes back to Dumbledore, who looked as though he was contemplating exactly how he was going to say what he wanted to say.

A few moments went by while Dumbledore stood there, surveying them all, then, looking as though he had finally come to a decision, the headmaster walked around the teachers' table, and came to a halt directly in front of the students, with his back to the other professors.

As he did this, the hall fell silent again. Almost everyone was wearing an expression of mild concern, counting out some of the younger students, who looked nothing short of terrified, and many of the Slytherins, who looked like they could care less.

As Harry looked at Dumbledore, he noticed that the robes the headmaster was wearing tonight were not of the usual colourful kind he would usually don, but were instead a very dark blue. This alone was enough to tell Harry that this year was going to be a very different one. The start-of-term feast was always something Harry had associated with excitement and happiness –a pleasant break from everyday life before school started, but now all he could feel was an air of tension, curiosity, and fear. What did this mean for the rest of the year?

Harry's musings were cut short however, as the headmaster started to speak.

"As most of you already know," he started, putting a hand to his long, white beard. "-We are facing some very hard times. Before the new students enter this hall I must ask you all to think about the year ahead. Think, for a moment, about what you wish to do. At a time such as this, it is essential that you stand together, and though the young ones being sorted today will be split up into different houses, I am asking you to take care of them all, no matter if they end up in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. We are only as strong as we are united, and I hope you can show the new students that friendship is not limited to people of your own house. I trust you to set a good example. Thank you."

There was complete silence as Dumbledore walked back around the teachers' table and sat down. It seemed as if no one knew quite what to say. The teachers were looking at him as well, all wearing expressions that told the students quite plainly that this speech had come as a complete surprise to them also.

After a minute or so of confused silence, Dumbledore waved his wand, and the door behind which the first-years were waiting opened slowly, revealing Professor McGonagall and the frightened eleven-year-olds.

McGonagall led them all in and lined them up, as was customary. Then she fetched the little three-legged stool and placed upon it a very old and tattered piece of cloth, namely, the Sorting Hat.

As she walked off to the side, where she would always stand and watch, the new students all looked at the hat, their expressions turning from fear to curiosity. Harry remembered how, when he was to be sorted, he had been scared half to death because he had thought he was going to be made to do magic. He smiled slightly to himself as he also recalled how Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George had told their younger brother that he would have to wrestle a troll to get in. It was strange to Harry to think that five years had passed since then, and yet it seemed even more strange that it had only been five years; he felt so much older now; he had had to go through so much since he was introduced to the magical world. Yet he wouldn't give it up for anything, that he was sure of. This was where he belonged.

So why did he feel so out of place? Why was he the one who had to live as a weapon? Why, of all people, was he chosen?

Harry was just about to become utterly lost in these thoughts when the rip near the brim of the Sorting Hat opened as a mouth and started its song, bringing Harry back to earth as he focused his attention on the old head garment.

_Good evening one and welcome all, _

_The time has come again_

_To reunite with happiness _

_As summer nears its end_

_You gather here expectantly _

_And listen to my song_

_But what I have to say this year_

_Is only for the strong_

_But first, the houses, strong and true, _

_Stand as when they were young_

_And it has been my task for years_

_To sort you into one_

_Fair Ravenclaw, she knew it all_

_She chose those who were smart_

_And founder Godric Gryffindor_

_Took just the brave of heart_

_The cunning, quick, and clever ones_

_Were picked by Slytherin_

_While Hufflepuff, the kind and sweet_

_Let all the others in_

_And so it was the houses four_

_Were shaped by founders' calls_

_And they shall be your families_

_While in the castle's walls_

_But now I feel that I must warn you_

_Of what is to come_

_For hard times we are facing now_

_And we must stand as one_

_Though I must, here, tear you apart,_

_You go your different ways,_

_I urge you now to realise_

_The fault that is my place_

_I think it wrong in times like these_

_To split you all apart_

_For in lack of trust and faith in friends_

_Togetherness is hard_

_So therefore I must tell you now_

_That Hogwarts is a whole,_

_That colours do not matter,_

_What to look at is the soul_

_So worry not about your house,_

_Your colour, or your place,_

_For friendship is not limited_

_By house or rank or race_

_As one must we now_

_Fight the growing evil that's at hand_

_Alone we are defenceless,_

_But together we can stand_

_With this I bid you all good night_

_And hope that you will see_

_No matter where these children go,_

_Together you are free_

Applause broke out as the Sorting Hat finished its song, but, just as last year, it was subdued. The hat had, again, given them a warning, and many of the students were now turned towards one another, whispering urgently.

Ron turned to Harry again, looking concerned.

"Getting darker and darker every year, isn't it..?" he said in a hushed voice.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, thinking the same thing.

"What do you reckon it means?" Ron asked quietly, leaning closer to Harry.

Hermione, who had not said a word up until now, turned around to face Ron and gave him a look of incredulity.

"Honestly Ron!" she said exasperatedly. "The Sorting Hat couldn't have made it much more obvious…"

When Ron merely raised his eyebrows, she let out a sigh of frustration and started to explain it to him.

"It's just about friendship Ron, friendship between the houses. _Alone we are defenceless, but together we can stand_ –the hat is saying that if we try to seclude ourselves, saying that different houses can't get along, we will fail the battle against V-Voldemort, but if we manage to see that we are all part of a whole, we have a much greater chance of prevailing. Furthermore…"

Harry had a feeling that this speech could have gone on for ages, and he was just about to zone out again, but Hermione was cut short as Professor McGonagall started calling up names, and their attention was, once more, drawn to the front of the hall.

"Adkins, Erik!"

A particularly tiny boy with completely white hair stepped out of the line, trembling visibly as he walked very slowly towards the stool on which the Sorting Hat was placed. Upon reaching his destination, he merely stood quite still for a few moments, watching the hat, before looking over to McGonagall, wearing an expression of mingled fear and curiosity, though clearly, the fear was the winning part, as he did not make a move to put the Sorting Hat on his head.

Professor McGonagall, looking extremely frustrated, came up to him and removed the hat from the stool, motioning for him to sit down. As he finally did so, she placed the hat on his head and walked over to the side of the room, where she had been standing prior to Mr. Adkins' reluctance at being sorted.

Now the little white-haired boy sat with the Sorting Hat not only covering his entire head, but also his shoulders, as it tried to make its decision.

After several minutes, the Sorting Hat finally called "GRYFFINDOR!" and the boy, ripping the hat rather violently off his head and placing it forcefully back on the stool, ran over to their table, where he was greeted with applause and a couple of reassuring pats on the back.

"Aww, he is so cute!" said a voice a little further down the table, and both Harry and Ron turned to see Parvati and Lavender looking fondly at the newcomer.

"He reminds me a bit of my little brother," said Lavender, smiling in a very motherly fashion and giving the little boy a wave.

Ron frowned, then turned to Harry, giving him a puzzled look.

"I wasn't aware that she had a little brother," he said, turning back to look at Lavender.

"He's seven," said Hermione quite unexpectedly, causing Ron to jump slightly in his seat and turn very abruptly towards Hermione.

"Blimey!" he said breathlessly. "It's bloody frustrating how one thinks you're not listening and then it turns out you are…"

Harry couldn't help but grin as Hermione sent Ron a pitying look and turned back to the sorting. Ron let out a frustrated sigh as he put his head on the table and uttered one word:

"Hungry…"

Luckily for Ron, the rest of the sorting ceremony didn't take very long, and soon the last student (Zohler, Wendy -"RAVENCLAW!") had been welcomed to her table, sitting down just as Dumbledore stood up.

"I can see that you are all hungry," he said, smiling.

Harry noticed that Ron was nodding rather vigorously on his right.

"So I shall not delay your meal any further," the headmaster continued. "Bon apetit!"

As he said this, dozens of golden platters appeared on the table, and Ron let out a moan of longing as he threw himself over the nearest one and transferred what Harry could have sworn was half of its contents onto his own plate. Harry saw Hermione throw Ron a disgusted look before filling her own plate, and Harry was just about to pull a platter of pork chops to him when a feeling in the pit of his stomach made him stop what he was doing abruptly and look around.

Harry knew that feeling; it was the feeling he got whenever he was being watched. And as he turned slightly to his left he noticed what, or rather, who, was causing it.

Sitting at the Ravenclaw table was a girl with curly reddish-blonde hair whom Harry recognised as Marietta, Cho's friend, who had given the DA away last year; her eyes were fixed on him, staring intently. He furrowed his eyebrows, giving her what he thought was a questioning look, but she took no notice; she simply kept staring at him as if he were the only person in the room.

Just as he was about to turn back to his table and ask Ron and Hermione if they knew anything, he saw something that almost made his heart stop; the girl's eyes, eyes that had been blue just moments before, were changing. The blue colour was fading, and it was being replaced by –no, it couldn't be, not here. Harry looked around, his heart pounding in his chest, but no one else was paying the girl the slightest bit of attention. He looked up at Dumbledore, but the man seemed completely undisturbed and unaware of what Harry was now seeing. For Marietta's eyes had changed; where there had once been blue, lively eyes, there were now slits, slits red as blood.

Harry's heart jumped up into his throat as he turned around and quickly tugged at Ron's robes, forcing him to turn around and look at her, but just as he had done this, her face was once again back to normal, and she was now looking at them both with a confused expression. As Harry stared blankly at her, she turned to the girl on her right, who, Harry hadn't noticed until this point, was Cho Chang, and they both turned around to look at him, Cho looking as if she might cry again.

Harry turned back around with an utterly bewildered feeling. Ron was giving him a worried look, every now and then glancing back at Marietta and Cho.

"Something wrong, mate?" he said after a few moments, giving Harry a nervous pat on the back.

Harry shook his head slowly, his breathing rather ragged.

"I thought-" he started, then decided to leave it. He was probably just tired. And discussing what he had just seen in front of the entire Gryffindor table probably wouldn't be the smartest thing to do anyway.

"Is it Cho, mate?" Ron said quietly, giving Harry what he obviously thought was an understanding look.

"No, it's not –I could care less about Cho," Harry replied, the answer coming out in a much more bitter tone than he had planned.

Harry suddenly felt stupid. Now Ron was going to think that he had gone back to fancying her or something, and he certainly hadn't. After everything that happened last year, he had had enough of Cho to last him a lifetime.

"It was nothing," he said decidedly, giving Ron a weak smile. "I'm just tired, is all. I thought I saw something, but I must have been imagining it."

Ron gave him a suspicious look, but said no more. Harry was glad that his best friend had decided to let the subject lie. He felt slightly foolish for letting himself become so alarmed, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Why had he seen something like that if it didn't serve some purpose? Something was definitely wrong. He decided to talk to Ron and Hermione about it as soon as dinner was over and they were back in the Gryffindor common room.

At present, Harry remembered that he still hadn't had anything to eat, and his stomach was now complaining rather loudly about this lack of food. Harry therefore pulled the platter of pork chops to him again, and transferred some onto his plate before starting to eat.

The rest of the meal went by without any extraordinary happenings; dinner was followed by a marvellous selection of desserts, and after having several helpings of both, both Harry and everyone else was very full and very tired.

As everyone was finishing up, Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling and noticed that it was a very clear night. The stars were all shimmering in the distance, adding extra enchantment to the already magical atmosphere of the hall. He could see several of the constellations; he amused himself for a moment with pointing out Orion's Belt, the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, and many others. He had never realised that it was possible to do this from inside the castle before, and it definitely fascinated him more than it should, so he turned his face back to earth and found that Dumbledore had stood up yet again, no doubt to give the start-of-term announcements and send them all off to bed.

"Now that you have all had something to eat, I would like to ask for your attention for a few moments before you head off to bed," the headmaster said, smiling.

Harry sighed. Going to bed did sound very inviting about now. It had been a long day, and he also wanted to get to the common room so he could properly discuss, with Ron and Hermione, what he had seen during the meal.

As he listened to the announcements Dumbledore was giving, he leaned back in his chair and relaxed; this was nothing he hadn't heard before.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. Pain seared through his scar such as he had not felt in several months. Gritting his teeth, he put a hand to his forehead, pressing it against the scar as he breathed heavily. It felt like his whole head was on fire.

"What's wrong, Harry?" came Hermione's worried voice from his left, as the pain got worse and worse.

Harry merely shook his head; he was sure that if he opened his mouth he would start screaming, and he really didn't want that kind of attention on his first day back.

"Is it your scar?" came Ron's voice from his right, sounding equally worried. "Is it _him_, Harry?"

Harry nodded, and, with great effort, managed to croak,

"He's killing someone."

Just as he had said it, a great wave of anger coursed through him, anger he was quite certain that he wasn't feeling, and the pain intensified, causing him to let out a stifled cry as it started spreading to his entire body.

The pain seemed to last for an eternity, but finally, it receded, and as it did, Harry noticed that Dumbledore had stopped talking and was now standing right next to him, supporting his back, and that every eye in the hall was on him.

"What happened Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly.

He kept his hands on Harry's back, and Harry was glad of it, for he was afraid he might just keel over and faint if Dumbledore let go. He felt as if he had just been burned alive, and his whole body was aching. His breath was coming out in short gasps, as if he had just run three miles, and on top of all this, he felt embarrassed and ashamed. People were gawking at him as if he were some sort of circus attraction.

Trying his best to ignore this, and gathering all of his remaining strength, he steadied himself with his hands and turned around to face the headmaster, who was looking at him with a very concerned expression.

"S-scar," Harry stuttered, trying to keep himself from shaking too much. "V-V-Voldemort. He was –someone was… I think he killed someone. He was really angry."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Can you walk, Harry?" he asked softly.

"Wha- yes, I think so but-"

Harry didn't understand. He had told Dumbledore that Voldemort had just killed someone. Surely that was more important than his ability to walk at the moment? He was going to point this out to the headmaster, but found that he was, presently, shaking too violently to speak so he settled on giving him a confused look instead.

"I think you should come with me, Harry," was the only thing Dumbledore said to this.

Harry didn't know what else to do or say, so he simply nodded, hoping that some explanation would come.

Hermione and Ron were both looking at him with very frightened expressions as Dumbledore helped him get to his feet, and they looked as if they had every intention of following them, but the headmaster held up a hand to stop them.

"I will be taking him to the Hospital Wing," he said calmly. "He will be out by tomorrow, don't worry, but I am going to have to ask you to wait until then to see him."

Upon seeing Ron and Hermione's frustrated expressions, he added,

"You do also have your prefect duties."

At this, Hermione straightened up instantly and gave the headmaster a curt nod, while Ron, rolling his eyes, nodded as well.

As Dumbledore led Harry out of the hall, he could clearly see Hermione walking around the table, ordering people to sit down and giving people directions, Ron wandering along behind her.

Some ten minutes later, Harry and Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore led Harry over to a bed, where a pair of pyjamas were laid out for him, and the headmaster left him to change while he went to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

A few minutes later, he returned with the medi-witch, who was carrying a small vial of what was unmistakably a Dreamless Sleep potion.

Dumbledore walked up to the side of Harry's bed and gave him a worried look.

"I want you to drink this before you go to sleep, Harry," he said gently.

Harry nodded, but he was still confused. Why wasn't Dumbledore doing anything? Why wasn't he alerting the Order? Why was he so calm?

As though the headmaster had read Harry's mind, he said,

"I have already alerted the Order members, and I have reason to believe that Voldemort was only dealing with his own tonight. But we will talk more in the morning. It is very important that you drink this entire potion, Harry. For even more important than your getting a good night's sleep is the fact that Voldemort can not access your dreams if you do not have any."

Dumbledore gave him a reassuring smile as Madame Pomfrey handed him the potion. Taking it, Harry thought that what the headmaster had said did indeed seem logical. And sleep did sound very nice at the moment.

As Harry slowly drank the potion, another thought came to his mind. How had Dumbledore managed to alert the Order members? Hadn't he been with Harry ever since his scar had started hurting?

Again, it was as if the headmaster had read Harry's mind.

"I have ways of contacting the Order that do not require me to abandon what I am doing, Harry. But now you must sleep."

Nodding, Harry lay his head down on his pillow, and before he knew it, the world had faded into darkness and he thought no more.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! I hope it was to your liking. Please keep those reviews coming, guys. It really keeps me going. Feel free to ask questions in your reviews. Answers and general comments can be found in my profile, so check that out if you have reviewed. I will try to update my profile tomorrow. Thanks again!  



	7. A Different Start

**A/N:** Wow. Long time no see, huh? Well, here it is, _finally_: chapter seven! In my defense, this chapter is three times as long as some of my other chapters, and it took me forever to write, so there's that. And I've had finals. And and and... But here it is, anyway. Enjoy!

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning feeling well rested and very relaxed. As he lay in his bed and looked up at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, it took him a while to remember the happenings of the previous evening. As the memories slowly made their way back to his mind, however, Harry found that the good mood he had woken up in disappeared faster than water flows out of cupped hands, and in a matter of minutes he felt as if someone had hit him repeatedly over the head with particularly heavy object. 

He let out a groan as he sat up and pushed the blankets covering him aside. He took a moment to glance around the Hospital Wing and found that it looked exactly as it had all the other times he had been there. He was, naturally, the only one in there, as the year had only just started. He wondered briefly if this was some sort of record, ending up in the Hospital Wing the day he returned to school.

Sighing, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and made to get up, but just as he did so, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in, and, seeing that he was awake, came straight over to his bed and shooed him back into it.

"You are not getting out of that bed until I have examined you, young man," she said briskly, pushing Harry rather forcefully back against his pillows.

"I'm – fine…" Harry stammered, gritting his teeth as she put her hands on either side of his head, turning it this way and that as she checked that everything was in order.

There seemed to be no end to how many angles she could inspect his head from. As Harry sat there, helpless, growing more and more frustrated, trying to think about anything else, his mind fell on Marietta. What exactly had he seen last night? Was he simply going mad or was there something else to it? The sight of her eyes as Voldemort's red slits had certainly been unnerving, if nothing else. But what could it mean? Voldemort couldn't be possessing her, that was out of the question; Dumbledore would know. Could she be working for him perhaps? Harry frowned to himself. That wouldn't explain why her eyes would change like that though; Harry knew quite plainly that Lucius Malfoy worked for Voldemort, yet he had never seen anything of the sort happen to his appearance.

"Everything seems to be ok, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said softly and Harry started, having forgotten, for a moment, that she was there.

Slightly annoyed, he nodded, getting out of bed while he mumbled,

"I could have told you that."

"Sorry, what?" said the medi-witch, turning towards him with a slight smile.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, drawing the curtains around his bed so that he could change in private.

Five minutes later he was changed and ready to head down to breakfast. As he started down the stairs and headed for the Great Hall, he noticed that the other students he passed were looking at him with apprehensive expressions; some of them put their heads together and started whispering loudly as he walked by. This was, naturally, not new to Harry, but he still found it incredibly annoying. He hadn't asked to have Voldemort connected to his head; it wasn't his fault.

By the time he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry was in a very bad mood. As he walked over to the Gryffindor table, trying his very best not to start shouting at random people, he looked up at the teachers' table and noticed, for the first time, that there was a new professor sitting there. Thinking it over, he found it slightly odd that he hadn't noticed this yesterday, but he shrugged it off as being due to the fact that he had had so many other things to think about at the time. Now, looking at the stranger, he noticed that whoever-it-was was very young. He was of average height, with very fair skin and blonde hair, he was wearing robes of a clear, light blue, and he sat staring into space, frowning slightly, looking as if he was lost in thought. Harry noticed that several of the girls in the hall were eyeing him with fond expressions.

Rolling his eyes and hoping that this man would prove to be more than just a face, Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, choosing a seat by himself, as Ron and Hermione were nowhere in sight.

Wondering where on earth they could be, Harry took a piece of toast from a stack near his plate and buttered it, all the while going over logical explanations in his head. Maybe they had overslept? No, Hermione wouldn't oversleep. And even if she had, the chances of both she _and_ Ron oversleeping were quite slim. Maybe they had been given extra prefect duties or something of the like..? Yes, that should be it.

"Hi Harry!"

Harry turned around very quickly, having been slightly startled by the sudden greeting, and found the youngest member of the Weasley family standing right behind him.

"Oh, hi Ginny," he said, smiling as she sat down next to him.

"Feeling better today?" she asked brightly, grabbing a platter of eggs and spooning some onto her plate.

Harry didn't answer immediately. It wasn't going to take much to feel better than he had yesterday, he thought bitterly, putting the toast he had been holding down on his plate. Ginny looked at him with a worried expression.

"Your head still hurting?" she said softly.

Harry shook his head slowly.

"Head's fine," he said shortly. "I'm just-"

He paused, not knowing quite how to express himself. Ginny kept looking at him with a concerned expression, ignoring the food she had just loaded onto her plate.

"I'm just tired of… -everything," he said finally, deciding to go for the short version.

Ginny frowned, not seeming entirely satisfied.

At that moment, however, Professor McGonagall came around with schedules, and they both became busy with examining their weeks. Harry found, to his utter shock, that NEWT-level potions was his first subject of the week.

"But-" he stuttered, as McGonagall came back around. "How? I only received an 'O' on half of my potions OWL…"

She merely gave him a small smile, and he turned back to Ginny with an utterly bewildered expression. Hadn't Snape said, quite clearly, that if they didn't receive an 'O' on their OWL-exam, they wouldn't be accepted into sixth-year potions? That statement had basically crushed his hopes of ever becoming an auror. And now –was there hope again? Pushing that thought aside, he thought of Snape. Snape hated him. -No, loathed with a passion was probably a more appropriate expression. Why would he make an exception for him, Harry, the person he detested so?

"I don't get it," he said, echoing his own thoughts. "Why did Snape accept me into his class?"

"Well, he couldn't very well accept me and not you," said a voice from behind him, and he and Ginny turned around to see Draco standing right behind them, grinning.

"What?" Harry said, not quite understanding the significance of this statement.

Of course Snape could accept Draco and not accept him. Favouritism was one of the things he was best at. That and making people feel miserable about themselves. Harry had also had the impression all along, loathe as he would have been to admit it earlier, that Draco was, generally, better at potions than him. Harry felt sure Draco could have pulled off an 'O' on his exam, which would have granted him a place in Snape's class.

"I never did show you my OWL-results this summer, Harry," Draco said and Harry raised his eyebrows, realising the truth in this. "My potions OWL was the same as yours, only the other way around. My practical examination received an 'O', whereas my written one only got an 'E'. Sodding Polyjuice Potion. I know perfectly well what it is, but I couldn't for the life of me describe its effects in detail."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, I know you could, Potter," Draco said, sounding slightly irritated. "My point is that Sev- uh- Snape –he's a friend of my family's, I'm used to calling him…" Draco looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, before regaining his composure. "Anyway, he couldn't _not_ accept me, because, well, you understand…" –Harry nodded, rolling his eyes- "so he, sort of, changed his rules around a bit, so that, if you had received _an_ 'O', meaning an 'O' on a part of your exam, as opposed to an 'O' altogether, you would be admitted. He's done this before, when he wanted to be able to take in certain students," Draco added.

Harry looked down at his schedule again.

"Unfortunately for Snape," he said coldly, "that means he gets me too."

He smiled again, as he saw the irony in the whole thing.

"It's actually quite amusing…"

Draco smiled and nodded in approval.

"So, what do you have the rest of the week?" he asked conversationally.

Harry squinted slightly as he looked back down at his schedule and started reading all of his subjects out loud, for Draco to hear.

"Monday: double Potions, Charms, lunch, double Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures-"

"We still have to take that?" said Draco loudly, interrupting Harry and glancing quickly down at his own schedule.

"Apparently," said Harry shortly, giving Draco a pronounced frown. "You have a problem with that?"

Draco hurriedly shook his head.

"No…no- no problem here…"

Harry saw Ginny roll her eyes next to him. Draco came closer to Harry and held out his hand for Harry's schedule. Harry handed it over, still frowning, and picked up his toast, taking a bite before turning back to Draco.

"It seems-" Draco started slowly, "that we still have Potions and Care of Magical Creatures together, and now we are also in the same Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration classes."

Draco glanced over at Harry, looking like he was trying to read the other teenager's expression. Harry merely nodded, unsure of how to feel about this. He and Draco had become –Harry wasn't quite sure what he should call it –was it friendship they had come to share? They had, at any rate, gotten to know each other better, but Harry wasn't sure that sharing four classes with Draco was something he was genuinely happy about. For all Harry knew, it could prove to be a great thing, but it could also prove to be a disaster.

"I can imagine you aren't thrilled at the prospect of seeing me that often-" Draco started, looking grim, but Harry cut him off.

"It's not that," he said quickly. "I'm just afraid that we're going to end up jumping down each others' throats, spending that much time together. I don't need to be enemies with you again, on top of everything else."

Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Well, we got through the summer, didn't we?" he pointed out.

Harry nodded.

"True," he said quietly. "But then it was only the two of us. Here it's different. Our opinions are very different, and our ways of reacting to things are different, and our way of-" Harry hesitated for a moment. "–Our way of treating people is very different."

Draco frowned deeply, not looking at all pleased with this statement.

"I can be civilised, if that's what you mean, Potter," he said coldly. "I thought I had proven that to you."

Harry felt bad now, looking the other boy in the eye and seeing his angry expression. What Draco said was true; he had behaved remarkably well since the night Harry had been kidnapped, and he had asked Harry to give him a chance to prove that he could change.

"I'm sorry," Harry heard himself say. "You're right. I reckon it'll be fine. My main fear was really that our differences would become too much for the both of us."

Draco's look became milder, but he still didn't look entirely happy. Harry was about to say something more to appease him, but Ron and Hermione chose that moment to appear, so he decided to leave it to another time.

"Harry!" Hermione said shrilly as she caught sight of him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, fine," Harry said dully, standing up and wishing people would stop asking him that.

Ron came up to him and gave him a pat on the back. Then, noticing Draco, he said, in a very loud voice,

"What is _he_ doing here?"

Harry sighed and gave Ron a pointed look.

"He was looking at my schedule," Harry said calmly, and Draco, realising that he still had Harry's schedule in his hand, shoved it back towards him rather more forcefully than he had needed to.

"Thank you, Draco," Harry said sweetly.

Draco muttered something under his breath and quickly shoved his own schedule into his pocket.

"So," Ron said airily. "Do we have any subjects with _their lot_ this year?"

Harry gave him a deep frown and put his schedule down on the table.

"Please cut that out Ron," he said angrily. "And yes, we do. That is to say, I do, I'm not sure if you do. What subjects are you taking this year?"

Upon being asked this question, Ron hesitated and Harry noticed that Draco had raised his eyebrows and was now viewing Ron with apparent interest. Ron looked quickly up at the enchanted ceiling before answering.

"I, uh… -my OWL scores weren't high enough for Potions or Transfiguration, so I, um, won't be in those, I suppose."

Ron was looking extremely uncomfortable. Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something about how it was Ron's fault because he hadn't studied enough, but before she could even open her mouth, Harry had sent her a look and shaken his head, telling her quite plainly that this was not the time for a lecture.

"I'm taking Defence Against the Dark Arts though –got great marks in that," he added, his face lighting up ever-so-slightly.

Harry smiled, glad that Ron had done well in that particular subject. The DA really had paid off, or so it would seem.

"You're not going to be in Potions though, are you Harry?" Ron said after a short pause, looking worried.

Harry was uncertain as to how he should go about answering this question without making Ron upset or angry, but he was saved the trouble of finding something to say as Draco gave Ron the answer for him.

"He is, actually."

Ron, who seemed to have forgotten Draco was there for a moment, turned around abruptly and gave Draco a surprised and slightly offensive look.

"What?" he said simply, freezing for a moment, before turning back to Harry.

Harry sighed, knowing that this wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Yeah, I –er- was admitted into Snape's Advanced Potions class."

Ron looked as if he didn't believe what he was hearing. He looked frantically from Harry to Hermione to Ginny, seemingly waiting for someone to yell "Had you on!" but, naturally, no such call pierced the silence.

"How did you-" he started after a long pause, but Draco, who apparently had decided that he was the one who should explain this to Ron, cut him off.

"Harry got an 'O' on his practical exam, and an 'E' on his written one," he said slowly, then proceeded to tell Ron exactly what he had told Harry and Ginny minutes before.

As Draco told him how it had worked out, Ron's expression went from surprised to incredulous to angry to furious, and when Draco had finished his rendition, Ron looked ready to kill someone.

"Bloody git," he spat, looking to Harry for support. "Bloody favouritism."

He mumbled furiously to himself for a few moments, while Harry tried to look neutral, but then Ron's face lit up and a slightly dazed grin found its way to his features.

"Idiot!" he exclaimed, giving Harry an eager look. "He hates you! Bloody brilliant!"

Harry raised his eyebrows as Ron started laughing loudly. Draco looked as if he would like nothing better than to take a swing at the overjoyed redhead, but kept himself calm, though he couldn't resist giving Harry a revolted look when Ron leaned on Hermione for support as he doubled over with laughter.

Harry ignored him and looked at Hermione, who shrugged and helped Ron sit down by the table.

"Don't kill yourself," he heard Draco mumble, and he turned back around to face the boy, making an effort to give him a strict look, but he couldn't help but smile.

Ron appeared to have lost it completely. Maybe the shock combined with the realisation that Snape had basically given himself a hard kick in the behind had been too much for him. But it still wasn't like Ron to crack up in this manner. It didn't seem like he was going to come out of it any time soon either.

Harry simply stared at him for a few moments; Ron was now laughing so hard that he had to gasp for breath; he was attracting a lot of attention and he didn't even seem to notice.

Struck with a sudden realisation, he turned to face Draco, who failed to hide a slightly sheepish expression.

"Cheering Charm," Harry said simply, giving Draco a very disapproving look. "Very clever."

"Cheering Charm with a twist," Draco corrected him, giving him a coy smile. "It looked like he could need it."

Draco smiled, and Harry felt his temper rise. The sheer nerve of him!

"Whatever you did, twisted or not, just take it off him," he snapped angrily.

And Draco, looking highly displeased, did as he was told. As if someone had turned a switch, Ron stopped laughing and immediately looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him. He snapped at a pair of third-years who were watching apprehensively before turning to Draco, who was now looking thoroughly bored.

Ron looked as if he wasn't able to find the right words to express his outrage. After a few moments of furious staring, he simply listed his entire vocabulary of expletives, one of which, Harry was certain, Uncle Vernon would have been very proud.

Draco looked mildly surprised for a moment; he had probably thought that Ron would use his wand before resorting to taking him out verbally. Harry noticed that the blond boy was gripping his own wand firmly inside of his robes.

"Colourful language you have, Weasley," he said, now sounding amused.

At this, Ron did pull out his wand, and pointed it firmly at Draco, looking like he wanted nothing more than to hex the other boy into oblivion. Draco pulled out his own wand, and Harry had just taken two brisk steps and put himself between them when an icy voice sounded behind him.

"Duelling? I do believe that is an activity that is strictly prohibited between lessons, Mr. Weasley. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry spun around quickly, and, quite true to his suspicions, there stood the greasy-haired, hooked-nosed Potions master, looking from him to Ron, wearing a contemptuous grin. Harry felt a surge of anger well up inside him. This was due not only to the fact that taking points only from Gryffindor had been blatantly unfair, but also to the animosity between Snape and Harry, which had stretched its limits last year.

"Professor Snape," Harry said coldly, looking Snape resolutely in the eye. "Ron was not the only one attempting to hex someone here. If I may, I would like to draw your attention to a certain boy within your own house, who happened to start the whole thing."

Harry glared furiously at Draco, and Draco, rolling his eyes, turned to the Potions master and said in a dull, toneless voice,

"I suppose I started this, Professor."

Snape raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, and Harry saw Ron's jaw drop a little to his right. Draco looked quite unperturbed by this reaction.

"I decided that Weasley here needed to lighten up a little bit," he proceeded to explain. "So I cast a type of Cheering Charm on him…"

Snape frowned and gave Draco a look Harry couldn't quite read.

"A _type_ of Cheering Charm, Mr. Malfoy?" he said calmly, showing no sign of the contempt he usually displayed upon catching anyone, who wasn't in his house, breaking the rules.

Draco hesitated for a moment and gave Harry a quick look before turning back to the Potions master, wearing a would-be innocent expression.

"I altered it a bit," he said slowly. "Gave it a twist, so to speak."

Snape looked like he didn't know quite how to respond to this. His lip curled unpleasantly as he undoubtedly thought of how to deal with this situation. Harry could imagine what was going through his head. Draco was in his own house. Should he punish him; should he treat him like he would treat any other student in Draco's situation? Draco had, after all, confessed his guilt, so there was no way around that.

"Meddling with magic," he said finally. "That is serious business, Mr. Malfoy. You are an exceptional wizard, but I would still be careful if I were you."

He paused, and Harry saw that Draco looked very pleased with the compliment the Potions master had paid him. Looking to his right, Harry saw that Ron, on the other hand, looked ready to burst. Hermione was holding a hand firmly on his shoulder, and every now and then she would whisper something in his ear; it seemed as if she was trying to keep him relatively calm, though Ron's ears had gone as red as Harry had ever seen them.

"You did admit to starting this…-mess," Snape continued silkily, keeping his gaze fixed on Draco. "So I will have five points from Slytherin for that. I expect better behaviour from you from now on."

And with that, he swept past them and disappeared, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco to sort the rest out for themselves.

"FIVE POINTS?" Ron yelled indignantly when the Potions master was out of sight. "Five bloody points?"

He turned to Draco, pointing a finger in his direction. His cheeks were pink with rage.

"You bloody started this!" he yelled at Draco, who was keeping his face neutral, though Harry could tell he was trying his best not to laugh. "And you get less points taken from you –how is that fair?"

Harry, however, was thrilled. Never, in his memory, had Snape taken any points whatsoever from his own house. Seeing him caught in a situation where he was forced to do just that made him feel a sense of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a while.

"What are you grinning for?"

Harry turned quickly to face his best friend, who was giving him an incredulous look. Harry wasn't even aware that he had been grinning, but now he forced his face into a neutral expression, somewhat similar to Draco's.

"Snape took points from Slytherin," he said simply, then couldn't help but grin again. "When has that ever happened before? It's quite fantastic, actually. I don't care how many points he took –he took points. From Slytherin. Snape."

"That just means he's going to be in a spectacularly bad mood today," Draco broke in, causing all of them to turn in his direction. "You two had better watch your necks."

He looked pointedly at Harry and Hermione, who turned to look at each other. Harry stopped grinning as he realised the truth in what Draco was saying. Surely Snape wouldn't let them get away with this. The first Potions class was going to be a nightmare, Harry just knew it. Then again, Harry thought to himself, he had actually read a lot of books over the summer; some of them had been about advanced potions making, as he had held on to the faint glimmer of hope that he might have done well enough on his OWLs to be accepted into Snape's class. So maybe this time he would be able to answer the questions that Snape was bound to throw at him. On the other hand, Harry wouldn't put it past Snape to have an extremely hard and intricate mess of a question that he had saved just for Harry.

Sighing, he looked at Hermione again, and tried to look less nervous than he felt.

"So, you're in Potions too then?" he said, not at all surprised. "I'm glad. No surprises though!"

Hermione grinned weakly and nodded. It seemed as if she was trying her best not to say anything. Harry had a sneaky suspicion that she was very surprised indeed. He was surprised to find that this bothered him very little though. She had probably thought that he wouldn't make it, and he had proven her wrong; this thought gave him enough satisfaction to drown out the fact that she had had so little faith in him. Besides, he thought reluctantly, she did have a reason for her lack of faith; he and Ron hadn't exactly studied as much as they should have for their OWLs.

Harry was brought out of his musings by a shriek from Hermione.

"Oh no!" she said, looking terrified. "Class starts in five minutes! We have to run!"

Confused, Harry looked around him, and with a start he realised that they were the only ones left in the Great Hall. None of them had noticed the other students leaving; they had been too immersed in their discussion.

As one, they turned on their heels and stormed out of the Hall. Once out, Harry, Hermione, and Draco started towards the dungeons, while Ginny and Ron started heading up the stairs. Harry found himself wondering briefly what Ron was doing, before he realised that Ron wasn't going to be with him in Potions this year. Suddenly getting a dreadful feeling of loss, he stopped walking and turned back to Ron, who was already halfway up the stairs.

"Ron!" he called, and Ron stopped and turned around. "What have you got first period?"

Ron hesitated for a moment, and Harry could see his ears turn bright red again.

"I've got History of Magic," he said sadly, turning around again, and climbing the rest of the stairs quickly, disappearing from sight.

Harry felt slightly empty. He had never had a class without Ron. He remembered briefly the time when they had been at loggerheads over the Triwizard Tournament in their fourth year; it hadn't been fun. He suddenly dreaded the prospect of having to face Snape without him.

He didn't have time to dwell on this, however, for he, Hermione, and Draco were now sprinting at top speed to get to their lesson on time.

With twenty seconds left, they caught sight of the door to Snape's classroom, and, just as the bell rang, they sprinted through it, out of breath, but relieved; Snape wasn't there yet.

There was an available desk at the very front of the room, and they hurried over to it, sitting down just as the door flew open, and a very grumpy-looking Potions master swept inside. Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous looks before focusing their attention on Snape, who had come to a halt in the middle of the room, looking somewhat like a vampire bat ready to strike.

"Welcome to Advanced Potions," he said in icy tones, looking around at the students, as if daring them to let their attention waver. "Most of the people in this room" –he cast Harry a malevolent look—"are here because they have a great understanding of the methods and theories behind this subject, and because they are capable of brewing fairly complex potions with few or no errors. I fully expect _all_ of you" –another vicious glare was sent in Harry's direction—"to work to the best of your abilities. And _some_ of you" –Snape kept his eyes on Harry—"simply need to _improve_ your abilities. With that said, I shall delay no further in beginning your lesson."

Snape moved quickly over to his desk and waved his wand in its direction, whereupon a large, brown book came soaring out from behind it and into his hand.

"Because of certain… -delays," Snape said, in his usual sneer. "Your booklists did not include your Potions books this year. Therefore, you shall be using the school's supply."

He held the book up so that everyone would be able to see it clearly. Squinting slightly, Harry could just make out the title:

_The Advanced Guide to the Art of Potion Brewing_ by Albert P. Sizzle.

"This is, naturally, only a temporary solution," Snape continued. "Next lesson, I will have order forms ready for you, and you can order your own copy. Until then, I expect you to handle these books with extreme caution; when you hand them in, they are to look just as when you received them. Any student who hands in a book that is damaged in any way, shall have to answer to me and suffer the consequences."

Harry looked at Draco just as Snape started calling out names and handing out books to the people present.

"You were right," he said quietly. "He really is in a bad mood, isn't he..?"

"Going on about handling the books with care…" Hermione added, looking at Snape with dislike. "I mean, if something should happen to them, all it takes is a simple Repairing Charm, now isn't it? Honestly…"

"Granger!"

Hermione jumped as her name was called, but she collected herself quickly and raised her hand, whereupon a book came flying in her direction. She caught the book in both hands and turned it over carefully, then opened it up to the table of contents page and started to read. Draco looked as if he found this slightly humorous, but didn't say anything.

A moment later, his name was called and, upon raising his hand, he received a copy of the same book. Catching it, he simply put it down on the desk and stared at it with a very bored expression. Harry could see that he had more in common with Draco than he had thought.

To his left, Hermione had already started reading chapter one, and Harry glanced over at her book for a minute, trying to see if he could recognise anything from his readings over the summer. The chapter title read:

_Potion Components: Why and How?_

He skimmed the first page quickly, and it seemed that chapter one spoke about the theory behind the different components in potion making; it was simply an explanation of the way potions were made; why some ingredients simply didn't mix with others, why some substances had to be added at a specific time, why potions exploded if one didn't cut certain components into pieces that were completely equal, etc.

And Harry thought, with a sudden wave of joy, that he actually did remember reading about potions theory over the summer. Maybe he would, for once, be able to show Snape that he wasn't a complete dunce.

"Potter!"

Just as Hermione had done minutes before, Harry jumped a little when he heard his name, but, unlike Hermione, he hadn't even managed to straighten up before the book came sailing straight towards his head, a lot faster than necessary. Luckily, probably due to his Seeker reflexes, Harry managed to catch the book before it smashed his nose, but it was a close call; he had caught the book when it was only half an inch from his face.

Blinking slightly, Harry put the book down on the desk and sent Snape a furious glare.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Potter," Snape said coldly, "but I thought you were paying attention. I should have realised that, seeing as this is an educational class, you _would_ be completely lost after five minutes."

Several people towards the back of the room snickered, and Harry felt his insides squirm with anger.

"However," Snape continued, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, "I do expect you to at least _try_ to make an effort in this class, hard as that may be for you."

Harry gritted his teeth furiously and clenched his fists beneath his desk. Snape was baiting him, he knew that, and he was determined not to let his temper take control of him, but, looking into Snape's eyes, and seeing the pleasure tormenting Harry gave him, Harry would like nothing better than to strike the man with the most powerful curse he could think of.

"Have you even opened a book this summer, Potter?" came Snape's voice, followed by more snickering.

Harry took a deep breath, and, determined to sound as polite as he possibly could, answered,

"Yes, Professor."

Snape raised his eyebrows and a sarcastic smile found its way to his features.

"Perhaps then, you could tell me…" he said, pausing for a moment, no doubt to think of a particularly difficult question he could give Harry. "What is a Tilithius Concoction, when do you, when brewing it, add the drop of dragon blood, and what is the significance of this specific timing?"

Next to Harry, Hermione started mumbling to herself, counting on her fingers and closing her eyes in concentration. Harry thought for a second. Tilithius Concoction –he had read about that potion. If he wasn't entirely mistaken, it was named for the wizard who created it, and it was a powerful healing potion.

"No answer, Mr. Potter?" Snape said silkily, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

Hoping he wasn't completely off-track, Harry sat up straight and looked Snape right in the eye.

"I do, actually," he said firmly, causing Snape's sneer to vanish, replaced by a look of incredulity.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," he said, hitching his sarcastic smile back in place, clearly convinced that Harry wasn't going to have the answer he was looking for. "Why don't you give it to us then?"

Harry took another deep breath, and, trying to remember everything he had read said,

"The Tilithius Concoction was named for Marek Tilithius, a Healer who lived during the seventeenth century. It is a powerful healing potion that is not used for physical injuries, but for severe mental injuries, injuries caused by magic."

Harry paused for a moment, and, to his immense satisfaction, he could see from the look on Snape's face that he had hit spot-on. If only he could remember the rest of it now… What was it he had read over the summer?

_Dragon blood, usually poisonous, is a very special component in this potion. Added at precisely the right time, it can actually work as a remedy for the mind that has been severely damaged by magic…_

Now, what was it added between? Harry fleetingly remembered something about a special type of snake; its eggs were apparently used in many potions… If only he could remember what it was called. Couldn't the eggs set houses on fire—?

Suddenly remembering, Harry looked back at Snape and, thoroughly pleased with himself, continued answering the Potions master's question.

"Dragon blood, when put into the potion after adding eggs of an Ashwinder and before adding Glumbumble fluid, can work as a remedy for minds that have been seriously damaged by magic, which is what this concoction is for."

Snape looked like he would like nothing better than to strangle Harry. Harry was thankful that he had used all the extra time he had had that summer to read; thwarting Snape's effort to make him look like a complete fool felt indescribable.

The Potion's master collected himself with what seemed to be a great effort.

"Very good, Potter," he said, so softly it was almost impossible to hear him.

No points were awarded, naturally, but, as Harry turned to look at Hermione, he still felt very pleased with himself. This feeling only intensified when he saw the expression on her face.

"Wow, Harry," she said softly, eyeing him with disbelief. "You really did read some books over the summer…"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to face the front of the room.

"You mustn't have so much faith in me, Hermione," he said sarcastically, not looking at her. "You wouldn't want me to get big-headed, now would you?"

He glanced quickly over at Hermione again, and she gave him a sad look, but he smiled, and, clearly understanding that Harry had just been kidding and wasn't the least bit angry with her, she lightened up again and shook her head, grinning. Draco looked like he didn't quite know whether he wanted to look happy with Harry's display of knowledge, or look glum, in support of Snape. Seemingly unable to make up his mind, he simply settled for giving Harry a faint smile and then focusing his attention on the Potions master.

The rest of the lesson passed without any exciting events. Snape used the entire class to talk about the basics behind the different ingredients in common potions, and, when one and a half hours was up, he told them to read chapter one for the following lesson, and be prepared to answer questions from the reading.

The moment the bell rang, Harry and Hermione got up and hurried out of the dungeons; Draco stayed after, saying that he had to have a word with Snape. Curious as to what it was Draco couldn't wait to talk to Snape about, Harry hurried up to Charms, followed by Hermione, who was still immersed in her Potions book.

When they entered Professor Flitwick's classroom, they quickly found a seat in the back and settled down, Hermione putting her book (with her nose still glued to it) onto the desk. Ron arrived a few minutes later, and, upon seeing them, hurried over to where they were sitting and slumped down in a chair next to Harry.

Harry grinned. This was how it was supposed to be. It had been strange to have Potions without Ron, and he would have to stand Transfiguration without him after lunch. He wasn't really looking forward to McGonagall without the support and comments of his best friend either, though Snape was definitely worse.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, sounding thoroughly miserable. "You are lucky you don't have to have History of Magic anymore. That was the longest period of my entire life…"

Harry gave Ron a sympathetic look.

"More goblin rebellions?"

Ron's look darkened.

"I almost wish for a bit of goblin history," he said sadly. "No, we're doing troll wars now. It's funny, you would think it couldn't get any worse than goblins, right? But I have just listened to a one-and-a-half hour-long speech about trolls hitting people with clubs. The most interesting part was when, allegedly, one of the trolls missed its target and hit its buddy instead, starting a kind of strange civil troll war some hundreds of years ago…"

Ron's voice trailed off and he stared blankly into space for a few moments before shaking his head rather violently and turning back to Harry with a slightly dazed expression.

"So, how was Snape?" he asked, making a face as he said the name.

"Not bad," Harry answered truthfully, causing Ron to raise his eyebrows and give Harry an incredulous expression. "Well, it wasn't as bad as usual, is what I mean to say."

Ron's eyebrows disappeared into his hair, and Harry proceeded to tell him about how he had answered Snape's question.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said, as Harry finished his rendition. "And here I thought you were as clueless as I am…"

Harry frowned and shook his head slowly.

"I just read a bit over the summer, that's all."

"Must have been more than just a bit," Ron mumbled, looking like he didn't quite believe it.

Harry didn't contradict him.

Charms seemed like it was over before it had even started. Flitwick set them to work on Protean Charms, which required an extreme amount of concentration, at least from most people in the class. At the end of the lesson, the only person who had managed to cast a successful Protean Charm was Hermione, seeing as she had done it to the coins Harry had used to inform the DA-members of the times for meetings last year. As he, Ron, and Hermione filed out of the classroom, he made a mental note to himself to practice the charm at the first available moment he had.

As they headed to lunch, Harry's mind once again travelled back to the events of the previous night. Harry had yet again felt Voldemort's anger through his scar, and had, once again, known why Voldemort was angry and what he was doing. Voldemort had killed someone; it had caused Harry to feel a pain that had been much worse than the pain that just came from a show of particularly strong emotion from the Dark Lord. But Dumbledore had said that Voldemort had been dealing with his own, so that should mean no one from their side had been hurt, shouldn't it? Harry really hoped so.

Still lost in thought, Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, entered the Great Hall five minutes later and sat down at the Gryffindor table. Ron eagerly pulled a plate of ham towards himself and started shovelling some onto his plate, but Harry found that he wasn't all that hungry. He glanced over at the teachers' table and found that Dumbledore was looking at him with a contemplative expression. He looked as if he were trying to make up his mind about something, but, upon noticing that Harry was looking back, he simply gave Harry a smile and turned around to talk to the new professor, who seemed thoroughly delighted to be engaged in conversation.

Harry turned back to his table just in time to see Ron stuff half the contents of his plate into his mouth at once, and Hermione giving him a disgusted look. Smiling slightly to himself, he shook his head, then turned towards the Slytherin table, trying to see if Draco was there.

It took a while for Harry to spot him, as he was no longer the centre of attention and surrounded by a large group of people, but he finally spotted the blond boy, who was sitting at the very end of the table, looking miserable.

Harry tried to catch his attention, but Draco seemed to be completely lost in thought. After realising it was useless, Harry fixed his gaze, instead, on a small group of Slytherins who were sitting huddled together, every now and then throwing reproachful glances at Draco. They seemed to be plotting something; every now and then, one of the group would point at Draco, wave his hand around, and then the other members would nod in approval.

After this had gone on for five minutes or so, a girl with long, black, hair drew out her wand and pointed it directly at Draco's head. Harry frowned. They were going to curse Draco right in front of the headmaster? Surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt that…

But they were. Harry wanted to shout out to Draco, to warn him, but it all happened too fast.

The girl holding the wand muttered something and a red jet of light zoomed out of her wand. Without even looking up, Draco raised his own wand, gave it a complicated little wave, and deflected the spell, all the while looking very bored. Harry's mouth fell open, and, just at that moment, Draco looked up, and, upon seeing Harry's expression, his face broke into a very self-satisfied grin. Harry ignored this and quickly beckoned Draco over, all the while very impressed with what he had just seen.

"That was amazing," he said softly, when Draco had gotten through the crowd of jeering Slytherins and had made it over to the Gryffindor table.

Draco shrugged, but couldn't help looking pleased with himself.

"It's not all that difficult," he said, giving Harry a slight smile. "If you master the technique, there's really nothing to it. I can show you, sometime, if you like."

Harry nodded eagerly. The ability to successfully deflect curses like that could really come in handy. Harry could, of course, deflect curses to a certain degree, but he knew he did not have the skill that Draco had just displayed. Harry guessed that Draco had probably been brought up having to learn those kinds of things. Draco was, Harry knew, quite good with actually casting curses as well. Harry remembered, in his second year, when Snape had paired him and Draco during Lockheart's duelling course. Draco had, at the age of twelve, managed to cast _Serpensortia_, which Harry knew to be an extremely complex curse. Harry hadn't thought to be impressed at the time, but now he realised that Draco must have been trained since he was very young. In a way, Harry envied him; it would have been nice to have got a head start such as that.

Harry, who had stood up when Draco had come over, now sat back down at the table, and motioned for Draco to join him. Draco looked reluctant for a moment, then he closed his eyes, opened them again, and sat down next to Harry without a word, though not without attracting quite a few stares. Parvati, who was sitting opposite Harry, was actually eyeing Draco quite fondly, but the others' looks were not that friendly. Neville, who was sitting a little further down the table, looked like he didn't quite believe what he was seeing, and Dean and Seamus, who were sitting opposite Neville, were staring at Draco with nothing short of loathing. Ron had stopped eating when Draco sat down, and was also giving him a very sour expression. Harry caught his eye and frowned pointedly, and, at this,

Ron merely went back to his food, though it was with unnecessary force he speared his ham and shoved it into his mouth. Draco seemed to be trying to ignore all of this, but Harry could see that his eyebrows were furrowed, and, every once in a while, he would close his eyes, then open them again slowly, as if hoping everyone would disappear if he couldn't see them anymore.

When Draco seemed to decide that this method wasn't working all that well, he turned to Harry and said, quite unexpectedly, his voice barely a whisper,

"I noticed a book you were reading this summer…"

Harry frowned slightly, checked to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation, then replied,

"Which one?"

Though he knew perfectly well which book Draco was talking about. Draco rolled his eyes gave Harry a 'don't-play-stupid-with-me'-look.

"What about it?" Harry said quietly.

"Well," said Draco slowly, "I noticed that it was, largely, about the Dark Arts…"

Harry nodded.

"All about the Dark Arts, actually," he replied, and when Draco gave him a surprised look, he added, "I was just curious."

"Just curious?" Draco asked, sounding highly suspicious.

"Yes," Harry said tiredly, though he wasn't entirely sure that his response had been entirely truthful.

The truth was he wasn't entirely sure why he was reading that book in the first place. Was he just curious, or was there something else to it? Ever since he had seen Bellatrix Lestrange murder his godfather, a part of him had had an urge to get back at her, to hurt her, to make her sorry, while another part of him kept saying that he had to keep his calm, he mustn't become the kind of person who took pleasure in hurting other people. He shouldn't need to get revenge in that way. No, he shouldn't have a need for revenge at all; it wasn't a good thing to want, he knew it. Though he couldn't help thinking that, had he had her at wand-point right now…

Draco looked like he wanted to keep questioning Harry, but, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Harry noticed that his eyes went from focusing on him, to travelling to a spot above his head.

Harry turned around quickly and found the headmaster standing there, looking fondly at them.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said, smiling slightly.

"It is so nice to see the two of you getting along," was Dumbledore's reply, and Harry and Draco looked at each other briefly, slightly amused.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, as Harry turned back towards the Headmaster. "I would like you to come with me after lunch. I have a number of things to tell you, and I am afraid this will involve your having to miss the rest of your classes for today."

Harry frowned.

"But-" he started, but Dumbledore cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I have spoken with both Professor McGonagall, and Professor Hagrid, and they do not mind at all. Professor McGonagall will give your homework to Miss Granger –I am sure she will not forget to give it to you…"

The headmaster's eyes twinkled, and Harry nodded quietly.

"Whenever you are finished," Dumbledore said. "Come up to my office. The password is on this slip of paper."

The Headmaster handed Harry a little note, and Harry took it, quickly putting it in the right pocket of his robes. Seeming satisfied, Dumbledore gave Harry a smile and walked quickly out of the Hall.

Harry turned back to the table and sighed. He was having mixed feelings about this upcoming conversation with the Headmaster. On the one hand, it could mean that he would be given more information that would help him figure things out, and on the other hand, it could mean that he would learn of other tasks he had to perform, of more people who were relying on him to do something he didn't know how to do. It was all very frustrating.

Draco appeared to have read Harry's expression, for he quietly said,

"Looking forward to it..?"

Harry shrugged and didn't answer. He decided it would be best to get the whole thing over with, and, seeing as he wasn't hungry anyway, there wasn't really any use in his sitting at the table doing nothing.

"I'm going to see Dumbledore," he announced to Ron and Hermione, who had been staring at him ever since the Headmaster had come over to talk to him. "Apparently I'm going to miss Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures, so I suppose I'll see you at dinner."

Ron looked slightly jealous at the mention of missing classes, and Hermione looked mildly disapproving, but neither of them said anything as Harry got up and walked out of the Hall, followed by Draco.

"Might as well go to Transfiguration early," the other boy said, when Harry gave him a questioning look. "Don't much fancy being cursed or stared at. I'm almost starting to realise what it must be like to be you –I'm glad I'm not."

Draco made a face, and Harry couldn't help but smile faintly.

"I'm glad you've finally noticed that my life isn't a fairytale," he said, his smile fading quickly. "Maybe you could tell Snape."

Draco said nothing to this, and they walked on in silence. When they reached the hall that lead to the entrance to Dumbledore's office, Draco waved goodbye and turned right, and Harry continued towards the large, stone gargoyle, stopped in front of it, and got the little slip of paper with the password on it out of his pocket. It read:

_Chocolate Frog_

Laughing a little to himself, Harry gave the password to the gargoyle, which came to life and stepped aside, allowing Harry to pass through the entrance that had formed itself in the wall. He stepped carefully onto the revolving staircase, and heard the walls move back together behind him.

When the highly polished oak door came into view, Harry stepped off the moving stairs and raised his hand, giving the door a few, sharp knocks. The door swung open immediately to reveal a well-lit room and Dumbledore, gazing at Harry with a warm, though concerned expression.

"Come in, Harry, come in," he said, letting Harry in and closing the door behind him. "Please sit down."

Harry followed the Headmaster over to his desk and sat down in a chair in front of it, a chair he had sat in plenty of times before, and Dumbledore sat down in the chair behind the table, all the while surveying Harry closely through his half-moon spectacles.

"There are a number of reasons for my asking you to come up here today," the Headmaster started quietly. "The first reason is, of course, the incident with your scar yesterday."

Dumbledore paused, and Harry, not sure if he was supposed to speak or not, merely nodded, though his stomach flipped unpleasantly and it suddenly felt like someone had stuffed his head with cotton; Dumbledore's voice was strangely muffled. _Please let everyone be ok, please let everyone be ok_, he found himself thinking, and Dumbledore, seemingly reading his thoughts, added,

"Everyone we know is quite fine, Harry. As I said yesterday, it appears that Voldemort was dealing with his own when your scar hurt last night.

Harry let out a long sigh of relief. He really didn't think he could take any more deaths on their side right now. Dumbledore smiled kindly for moment, then his smile was replaced by the same concerned frown he had worn a minute ago.

"We really need to stop this connection between you and Voldemort though, Harry," he continued, looking grim. "I am afraid this means you shall have to continue your Occlumency lessons."

Harry nodded in agreement. He realised now that the only way to keep himself, and those around him, from harm, was to stop himself from having these visions and insights into Voldemort's mood. He knew now he couldn't trust them. Voldemort had been quiet over the summer, probably due to his defeat at the Ministry, but Harry knew it would only be a matter of time now before Voldemort, yet again, started using the connection between him and Harry against Harry.

"So you will be teaching me then?" Harry said, assuming as much, but, to his shock, Dumbledore slowly shook his head.

"I am afraid I cannot do that," he replied sadly. "I would like to, but, as we do not know what Voldemort is planning at the moment, and as we do not know how he has learned to use the connection between you, I think it unwise for me to be the one to teach you Occlumency. If he, somehow, manages to watch us through you without your noticing as you watched him last year, it can only mean destruction for the Order, if I find myself at the receiving end of his glare. I am, of course, fully capable of hiding my thoughts from him under normal conditions, but if he were to use you while we were practising, he could catch us both off our guards. That would not be a good thing at all."

Harry looked down, trying to take it all in, and, of course, Dumbledore was right. He couldn't risk exposing the Order's plans to Voldemort in that way. This could only mean one thing…

"Professor Snape will continue teaching you."

Harry groaned loudly and put his head in his hands.

"He hates me," he muttered, "especially after what happened last year… I assume he told you about that?"

Harry looked up to see the Headmaster nodding silently.

"He was not very happy about it," Dumbledore said, shaking his head apologetically, "but he has agreed, and he will teach you everything you need to know, as long as you are willing to learn, and practice."

Harry didn't know what to say. He would rather shove an entire pack of vomit-flavoured Bertie Bott's beans down his throat than be alone in a room with Snape ever again, but he needed to learn Occlumency.

"Fine," Harry heard himself say.

"I need to hear that you are practising this time, Harry," Dumbledore said, still looking concerned. "It is imperative that you learn to defend your mind from outside penetration, and it is not an easy thing to do. You will need to work hard."

Harry nodded gloomily.

"However," Dumbledore said, "I will be teaching you as well, that is, if you will accept my teachings."

Harry frowned, uncertain as to what Dumbledore was talking about.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting forward in his chair.

"I am speaking of the wandless magic you performed over the summer," Dumbledore replied, his expression less concerned now. "If you will let me, I will teach you more magic of this kind, that is, if you prove capable of doing it, which I do not doubt that you will."

Harry's mood lightened considerably upon hearing this. Dumbledore would be teaching him after all; this year wasn't going to be like last year. Though Harry would still have to endure lessons with Snape, he would at least be able to look forward to lessons with the Headmaster as well.

"I would like very much for you to teach me," Harry said contentedly. "I would like to do as much as I can to prepare myself for what is to come. I have read many books over the summer, but books can only get you so far."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, and gave Harry another warm smile, a hint of a twinkle back in his eye.

"I am glad for you conviction Harry," he said warmly. "You have grown up a great deal over the summer. Many of the other members of the Order seem to think it not wise, but I think…"

Dumbledore paused, and Harry frowned. The Headmaster looked at him for a long moment and finally nodded to himself.

"Yes," he said firmly, and Harry, now thoroughly puzzled, gave him a questioning look.

"I think, though you are young," Dumbledore continued, "that, given what you have to do and all you have already had to face, you are more than ready to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix, if you so wish."

Harry gaped at him. He could not believe what he was hearing. This would mean that he would get all the information the other Order members were getting; he would know what was going on. This was a chance, unlike any other, for him to really prepare himself.

"Yes," Harry said instantly. "Yes, I want to become a member. I want to know what is going on. I want to be a part of the war I am meant to end. I want it more than anything."

Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, and Harry immediately got the feeling that his being a member might not give him all those benefits after all.

"I am afraid your becoming a member will not mean that you will get to know everything at once," the Headmaster said, confirming Harry's suspicions. "First you will need to learn to protect your mind. Then and then only can you be given all the information you want. We cannot risk revealing our plans to Voldemort. You must learn Occlumency; it all comes back to this, Harry."

Harry sighed wearily, but he understood what Dumbledore was saying, and the Headmaster was right, as usual. Harry could not be given information that might give the Order away if Voldemort was able to dig into his mind again; it just wasn't worth the risk.

"I understand," Harry said quietly.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said, smiling again. "I will make it known to the rest of the Order that you are to become a member. You will start Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape tomorrow; he requested that you be in his office no later than six o'clock. Training with me will start on Wednesday. You can come to my office any time between dinner and eight fifty-two" –Harry smiled to himself—"and that, I think, will be all for now."

Dumbledore smiled at him and got up from his chair. Harry was about to follow suit, but then he remembered, with a jolt of dread, what he had seen at the welcome feast last night. Marietta's eyes –Dumbledore should know…

"Professor," Harry said urgently. "There is something I forgot to tell you. It happened yesterday, right before my scar started hurting…"

Dumbledore sat down again as Harry told him exactly what he had seen the day before, and as Harry relived the happenings of the welcome feast, Dumbledore's expression became grave and worried once again. When Harry had finished, the Headmaster stood up and walked over to Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch, eyeing them intently.

"I will need you to give this message to Remus Lupin," he said, conjuring a slip of paper in mid-air and handing it to the phoenix.

As the bird disappeared in a burst of flames, Dumbledore turned back towards Harry with a very serious expression.

"I am very glad you told me this, Harry," he said calmly. "It might be a clue to a new scheme we think Voldemort might be working on. I will visit Miss Edgecomb immediately, and I would like you to go back to your dormitory and stay there for the evening."

Harry got up from his chair and walked quickly to the door, pulling it open just as the Headmaster laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry turned back around and faced him, realising just then, that the sun had set; his visit to Dumbledore's office hadn't seemed that long…

"I know that your trust in me has been bumped and bruised," the Headmaster said, sounding sorrowful, "but I hope that this might be a new start for that trust. I will not leave you out in the dark again, Harry. I am very impressed with the way you are handling this; your continuous spirit is much like your father's, and as soon as you master the skill of keeping your mind safe, I assure you I will keep nothing you wish to know from you any longer."

With that, Dumbledore let go of Harry's shoulder and he escorted Harry out of the door, stepping onto the revolving staircase next to him.

When they reached the bottom, the wall immediately opened to let them through, and as Harry headed for Gryffindor tower, Dumbledore bade him goodbye and headed, Harry assumed, for the Ravenclaw quarters.

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room five minutes later, he was completely shocked to be met by a storm of applause and cheers. He hadn't even stepped through the portrait hole before someone came over and wringed his hand, congratulating him.

"What is this?" Harry said, confused, but just then, Professor McGonagall came over to him, beaming.

"Mr. Potter," she said, rather loudly. "It has been decided, assuming that you agree to do it, that you should be made captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team!"

Harry's mouth fell open. In a second it was as though a hole had been made in his brain and all his worries and fears just flew out of it.

"Wow," was all he managed to say, grinning so widely he was sure he must look completely ridiculous. "I mean, yes. Yes… wow."

The whole common room broke into cheers and applause once more, and Harry was immediately shoved into a chair and brought both food and drink. Seeing as he hadn't had any lunch or dinner, he was now very hungry, so he was very thankful for the pumpkin pasties he was brought, which he ate at once.

The portrait hole opened once more, and Hermione and Ron, followed by Ginny, Neville, and Seamus entered. As they looked around, Harry could tell that they were just as puzzled as he had been upon entering the common room and finding a party.

Harry stood up quickly and made his way over to them, still grinning.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, eyeing the food hungrily.

"I've been made quidditch captain," Harry said excitedly, still feeling very pleased.

Hermione didn't look like she took it all in at first, but then she shrieked and threw herself in his arms.

"Oh, congratulations, Harry!" she exclaimed, stepping back and giving him a big smile. "No one deserves it more than you! Oh, this is wonderful!"

Ron came up and patted his back, also grinning.

"Good on you, mate! That cup's going to be ours again, eh?"

Seamus gave him the thumbs up and Neville simply gave him an enthusiastic grin.

"Great, Harry," he said. "You're the best, really, you are."

Ginny was the last to approach him. She smiled widely, but seemed uncertain as to what she should do, and quite as nervous as she used to be around him.

"Congratulations," she said timidly, and walked up to him as though wanting to give him a hug, but backed up again a moment later, looking very shy.

Harry, who was now in a very good mood, gave her a warm smile and walked up to her instead, giving her a big hug.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said quietly, and as he stepped back, he could see that she was blushing furiously.

As she hurried towards the girls' dormitories, Harry watched her go and he suddenly felt very happy. He knew things couldn't stay like this; he knew he would have to face Occlumency with Snape the next day; he knew he was facing one of the hardest years of his life, but right now he felt, for once, like a normal teenager.

This was surely how life was supposed to be.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, there it is, folks. I hope you liked it! I don't think the next chapters will be this long, but one never knows... Anyway, thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed, and please, please continue doing so! It is very important to me..! If you ask questions in your reviews, I will post answers in my profile page. I will also just post general thanks and such. So if you review, check that out! Ok, thanks again, guys, and keep those reviews coming:)  



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